#it's only those last two really but. still

[thedigitalbard]

Campaign Spotlight

Ahmad Waleed's Family

In a town once filled with the laughter of children, the rumble of distant explosions became a constant reminder of a war that seemed never-ending. The day the fighting reached his neighborhood, 14-year-old Ahmed watched in horror as his home crumbled into rubble, the echoes of his shattered dreams mingling with the cries of despair from his family and neighbors. Ahmed and his family had no choice but to flee, carrying only what they could on their backs. They found refuge in a makeshift camp where thousands of other families sought safety. But there was no school, no electricity, no sense of stability. The camp was a place of survival, not a place where dreams could grow. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Ahmed's hope began to fade. He felt the weight of the war on his shoulders, a burden too heavy for a 14-year-old to carry. Yet, amid the uncertainty, a glimmer of hope appeared—an organization dedicated to helping children like Ahmed. They set out to rebuild the community, to offer education, and to provide a safe haven for those who had lost everything. We need your support to help Ahmed and others like him rebuild their lives. With your donation, we can provide shelter, so children no longer have to sleep in fear. We can create classrooms where they can learn and pursue their dreams. We can offer them a second chance at a brighter future. Your contribution can make all the difference. It can be the beacon of hope that guides Ahmed and others through the darkest of times. Join us in our campaign to bring light to their lives, to show them that the world still cares. With your help, we can give these children the tools they need to rebuild, to learn, and to dream once again. Together, let's create a future where children like Ahmed can grow up in peace and safety.

Hello everyone. This campaign is number 167 on the Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi. Ahmad has been fundraising since April, and he is still less than 50% of the way to his goal. The last donation to Ahmad's campaign was 21 HOURS AGO. We really need to help him reach the short-term goal of $10k as soon as possible. Ahmad is only 14 and he has put so much effort into raising funds for his family's campaign. I really don't want to see his efforts ignored. Please support Ahmad's family by sharing and donating. He has already had two accounts shadowbanned by Tumblr, but you can follow his campaign on this new account @ahmadwaleed55.

$9,225 / $25,000

Tagging for reach: @brutaliakhoa @buttercuparry @transmutationisms @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness

@neptunerings @heliopixels @commissions4aid-international @fading-event-608

@malcriada @turian @girlinafairytale @abnormalicacid

@appsa @sylvianritual @mothblossoms @autisticmudkip

@lesbianmaxevans @schoolhater

[fastandcarlos]

Thousands Of Miles Apart : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: you and daniel aren't getting any younger, and yet you seem to find yourselves further and further apart on either sides of the world

There was no response from you as you heard the key finally go into the door to your apartment, hearing the sound of Daniel singing to himself. You remained where you were sat, staring down at the floor as his footsteps echoed throughout the place, a clear spring in his step, the complete opposite to how you were feeling beside him. 

However, as Daniel walked in and noticed you sat on the sofa, a few candles lit around you, his heart dropped. The singing came to a stop, his footsteps became heavier as he slowly walked closely towards where you were. 

There was no acknowledgement from you that he was there as Daniel sat in the seat opposite you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look across at him as you tried to stop the anger in the pit of your stomach from exploding. 

“Babe,” Daniel whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get home so late, we were just testing and time just ran away from me.” 

“Shut up, please, just shut up,” you asked of him, the harshness in your voice taking Daniel by surprise. “I don’t even want to hear your excuses anymore; I’m fed up of you treating me like I’m stupid with all of these reasons.” 

It took a moment for Daniel to comprehend what you were saying, the anger in your voice leaving him dejected. “I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you by not coming home earlier, I should’ve let you know that I was going to be a while.” 

“I don’t care about work Daniel; I care about the fact it’s another night away from each other.” 

“I know, but we’re both so busy it’s hard to find time together.” 

Your eyes rolled at how careless his voice was, shrugging his shoulders. With time so tricky to find, you were trying to find those pockets of time, however Daniel didn’t seem to be. 

“We spend the majority of our days thousands of miles apart, but when we’re both at home we’re still apart too. What’s the point of doing this to ourselves when we’re just constantly away from each other?” 

Daniel’s body tensed up as you finally looked across at him, your expression was emotionless, sending a shiver down his spine. “It’s not going to last forever, we’re trying our best, aren’t we? But sometimes things get in the way.” 

“You’re really telling me this is you trying your best for me?” 

Daniel’s head nodded, only to feel your eyes narrow in on him, questioning how honest he was being with you. “I’ve always put our relationship first; do you know how hard it is for me too when we’re so far away? It’s not like I want to live like this.” 

At times it felt like you barely recognised the man in front of you anymore. The Daniel you knew at the start of your relationship would race halfway around the world if it meant getting to spend time with you, but now it felt he couldn’t even be bothered to walk half a yard for you, instead deciding to prioritise work instead. 

Your eyes dropped as you struggled to hold back your emotion. “I can’t keep doing this Daniel, I don’t even feel like I’m in a relationship sometimes these days.” 

“I’m sorry,” Daniel whispered, “I hate that you feel that way. You know how much I love you sweetheart; I couldn’t imagine doing life without you by my side.” 

“I love you as well,” you assured him, “but the fact we love each other can’t be the reason why we stay together. We have two very different, hectic lives, and although we always promised that wouldn’t get in the way, I can’t help but feel like now it is.” 

You quickly wiped a tear away, hoping that Daniel wouldn’t see. However, as he stood up and moved himself to where you sat, placing his arms gently around your back, you knew that he had seen just how much you were struggling. 

“Why does this feel like you’re breaking up with me?” Daniel stuttered. “I don’t ever want to make you feel like I’m not trying, or that I don’t care. I wish more than anything that you didn’t have to wait for me constantly, that I could be here whenever I want and spend my evenings cuddled up to you and not letting you go.” 

“I don’t think I am,” you whispered, leaning a little closer into Daniel. “But I just don’t think I can carry on like this, it’s not healthy for either of us Daniel, this shouldn’t be the normal.” 

Daniel pulled you even closer towards him, pressing a kiss against the top of your head, refusing to let you go. “I don’t care what I have to do, but I promise that I’m going to make some changes and make sure that I’m here for you, for us, more.” 

Your head slowly nodded, you could hear the fear in Daniel’s voice, desperate to make sure that you knew just how serious he was about fixing you up and not losing what you had. 

“I’ll do whatever to prove to you how much I want to make this work, even when we’re thousands of miles apart,” Daniel whispered. “I hate the fact that I ever made you doubt how I feel about you or made you feel like I didn’t care either.” 

“Are you really serious about making this work again?” 

Daniel’s head nodded without even having to think, he had never been so sure of anything in his life. “I can’t lose you, even if I made it seem like it’s not the case recently, I cannot stress enough that you really are everything to me.” 

“It’s a relief to hear you say that, Daniel.” 

He pressed a kiss against the side of his head, bringing his lips to your ear. “I love you, more than you could ever imagine, you’re the best.” 

Your smile slowly turned up, resting your hands on Daniel’s arm that was around you. “I love you, that will never change.” 

“You know, I miss us too, I always wish that we could go back sometimes and pause time.” 

Despite seeming as if he didn’t care, Daniel did, more than anything. He hated whenever work told him to stay, or when his management called and told him they had plans for a deal which meant he had to be away from home for even longer. 

“How about tomorrow we plan some time and organise some dates, we can do whatever you want and I promise that I’ll definitely show up for them too.” 

Your head nodded at Daniel’s suggestion, relaxing into his hold as he leaned his head down to rest on top of yours. 

“You can make me do whatever, it’s the least I can do for what I’ve put you through,” Daniel added, bringing a chuckle out of you. 

“You might regret saying that you know with some of my ideas.” 

Truthfully, he didn’t care, as long as it meant time with you then he was happy doing absolutely anything. “All I want is to be able to start creating memories with you again, no matter how stupid they end up being.” 

“Making you look stupid is my speciality,” you teased in reply to him. 

“Hm, I’m pretty good at doing it all by myself.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[leejenowrld]

after all this time?

word count — 8.2k

genre — smut, fluff 

synopsis — you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever truly go away.

warnings — explicit sexual content, explicit language and swearing, sexual themes, intense emotional scenes, reconciliations and reunions, don’t expect unnecessary and forced angst, this is a story of two emotionally mature and intelligent lovers, communication communication!!,  oral sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), intense smut scenes with themes of dominance and submission, scenes depicting emotional vulnerability and deep angst, themes of unhealed emotional wounds and confrontations, mentions of past relationship trauma and heartbreak, hea!! 

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly.

──────────────────────────────

The muffled thump of music grew louder as you and Yeji approached the house, the bass reverberating through the cool night air. It was your first night on campus, and the idea of starting over had already filled you with enough nervous energy to last a lifetime. Transferring halfway through your academic course wasn’t something you’d planned, but circumstances had changed, and now, so had you. 

Your arms were interlocked with Yeji’s, her presence steady and reassuring. You shot her a thankful smile, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over you. You hadn’t expected to make friends so quickly, especially on your first day, but Yeji had greeted you with a warmth that immediately put you at ease. Her bright, welcoming smile and easygoing attitude made the transition less daunting, and now, with her by your side, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

As you glanced around, the neighborhood was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, the shadows of swaying trees flickering against the sidewalks. The crispness of the autumn night lingered in the air, a reminder that you were stepping into a new chapter of your life. A party wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your first night, but Yeji had insisted. 

“You’ll get to know people this way,” she’d said, her voice light and encouraging. And now, despite your doubts, here you were, standing outside a house that seemed to pulse with life from within.

The house itself was large, the kind of place that screamed "party central" the moment you laid eyes on it. Soft, colorful lights spilled from the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow across the front yard. You could see silhouettes moving behind the windows, the faint murmur of laughter and conversation blending with the steady beat of the music. It looked like one of those classic college parties you’d only seen in movies—people standing in clusters, drinks in hand, and a general air of excitement buzzing through the night.

You adjusted the strap of your dress nervously, feeling the weight of the newness pressing down on your shoulders. A party had never really been your scene, especially not on the first night in an unfamiliar place, but something about this moment felt different. You weren’t the same person who avoided stepping out of her comfort zone. You were here now, and you wanted to make the most of it.

“Ready?” Yeji’s voice broke through your thoughts, her eyes shining with anticipation as she glanced over at you. Her energy was infectious, and you found yourself nodding, despite the tight knot of anxiety still sitting in your chest.

You took a deep breath, letting the sounds of the night fill your senses—the distant hum of cars passing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the faint echo of laughter from the house. It was all part of this new world you were stepping into, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the stirrings of excitement mingling with your nerves.

“Let’s do this,” you said, your voice more confident than you felt.

As the two of you made your way toward the front door, you could feel the energy of the party radiating outward. The door opened, and a wave of warmth hit you, both from the inside heat and the buzz of life within. The soft glow of string lights hanging from the ceiling gave the place a laid-back, cozy atmosphere, contrasting with the thrumming music that vibrated through the walls.

Inside, the house was packed. People filled every available space—some lounging on couches, drinks in hand, others gathered in small groups, laughing and talking. The smell of something sweet and a little smoky hung in the air, and the chatter mixed with the pulse of the music, creating a kind of chaotic harmony. You scanned the room, taking it all in—the casual, carefree smiles of people you didn’t know yet, the flash of colorful cups clinking together, and the low, heady buzz of excitement that seemed to swirl through the crowd.

Yeji led you through the throng, her hand still hooked around your arm as she navigated the party with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before. She moved with confidence, offering smiles and waves to people she knew as she guided you through the maze of bodies, all the while keeping a reassuring presence by your side.

You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, like you were watching everything unfold from the outside. The laughter, the easy conversations, the way people moved around each other like they belonged—it all felt like a world you hadn’t quite stepped into yet. But being here, surrounded by this energy, made you want to dive in, to be part of it.

“This is it,” Yeji said, smiling as she pulled you to a stop near the kitchen, where a makeshift bar had been set up. Bottles of every kind of alcohol lined the counters, and a few people were mixing drinks with practiced ease. “What do you think?”

You glanced around, feeling the pulse of the party in your bones, the music reverberating through the floor beneath your feet. “It’s… a lot,” you admitted with a laugh, feeling the tension in your chest start to loosen just a little. “But it’s good.”

Yeji grinned, squeezing your arm. “That’s the spirit. Let’s grab a drink and have some fun.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath as you let yourself be pulled into the flow of the night. The unfamiliar faces, the hum of excitement, the newness of it all—it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming anymore. You were here, in this moment, and maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Who’s house party is this?” you ask, glancing around. The question lingers in the air for a moment as Yeji opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, you bump headfirst into someone’s chest, your momentum nearly knocking his drink out of his hand.

You stumble slightly, your hands flying up in reflex to steady yourself. His chest is firm—hard, even—and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you take a step back, wide-eyed. You open your mouth to apologize, but the words get stuck in your throat when you look up.

At first, his expression is one of annoyance, his brow furrowed as he glances down at you. But then his eyes meet yours, and everything shifts. His features soften, and time seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you stare at each other, frozen in place. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail, and you can see the moment recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Jeno,” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips effortlessly, almost as if your body had been waiting for this moment. You blink, half-convinced that this is some sort of dream—because how could it be real? How could he be here, after all this time?

Yeji starts to speak again, her voice cutting through the haze of disbelief. “Yeah, it’s his party—” She trails off when she notices the way you and Jeno are looking at each other, the sexual energy that seems to hang in the air between you two. It’s like the entire room has disappeared, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you standing there, unmoving, locked in a silent conversation only you can understand.

People around you begin to grumble, nudging and pushing past as you both stand still, blocking the hallway. Someone mutters something about moving, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All that matters is the person standing in front of you, the one you hadn’t expected to see, let alone here, in this place.

“Y/N.” His voice is deeper now, more grounded, and the sound of your name on his lips sends a shiver down your spine. It’s familiar, yet distant—like hearing a song you used to love, but haven’t listened to in years.

You swallow hard, taking him in, trying to make sense of how much he’s changed. The teenage boy you once knew has grown into a man, his features sharper, more mature. His jawline is strong and defined, the once soft angles of his face now chiseled. His hair, slightly tousled in a way that looks effortlessly perfect, falls into his eyes, which are darker and more intense than you remember. There’s a confidence in the way he holds himself now, his broad shoulders filling out the leather jacket that clings to him like a second skin. He’s beautiful, in the way that takes your breath away, but there’s something different about him too—something distant.

You can’t help but smile at him, though your heart hammers in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Joy, disbelief, and something deeper—something painful. But that smile falters when you see the way he returns it: tight-lipped, almost forced. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and the realization stings, sending a pang of guilt through your chest.

You frown, the weight of your last interaction with him crashing down on you. All those years ago—the tears, the screaming, the painful goodbye. You can still feel the heartbreak in your bones, the ache that never fully went away. It’s all rushing back to you now, as if no time has passed at all.

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he can see straight through you. Every memory, every feeling, every regret. You gulp, your heart heavy with the confusion of seeing him here, after all these years, in a place where you’d least expect to run into him.

You’re overthinking—your mind spiraling through everything that went wrong, how things ended between you two. The guilt gnaws at you, but at the same time, there’s a flicker of something else. A warmth, a quiet happiness in your chest that he’s here. Out of all the people, out of all the chances, it’s him. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and it makes your head spin.

Love was never simple. And seeing Jeno again, after all this time, only reminds you of how complicated it can really be.

“Come here,” Jeno says softly, his voice a gentle command that cuts through the haze of noise around you. His eyes search yours with an intensity that sends a warmth rushing through your chest, and when he notices the flicker of uncertainty in your expression, his gaze softens. He always did think your smile was the prettiest, and now he just wants to see it again.

You hesitate for only a second before moving toward him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you step into his embrace. Your heart races, your body thrumming with nervous energy, but being in his arms feels like a release—like slipping into something warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, his grip firm but gentle, as though he’s afraid to let go. The feel of him against you is intoxicating—solid, warm, his body radiating a heat that makes your skin tingle. The scent of him, that blend of fresh soap and something uniquely Jeno, envelops you, making you feel safe, grounded.

Your arms slide up around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It’s as if time has slowed down, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the party, the noise, the crowd. It’s just you and him, wrapped in this moment, in each other.

But all too soon, he pulls back, and the loss of his warmth hits you like a cold wind. You blink up at him, confused, your heart still pounding in your chest. And that’s when you notice it—the stares, the whispers. People around you are watching, their eyes filled with curiosity, judgment, and something darker that makes your skin crawl. It’s only now, without Jeno shielding you, that you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if the entire room is dissecting the moment you just shared.

You gulp, trying to shake off the unease, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind. Why were they all staring? Why were there whispers? What had you done to deserve those mean eyes?

Before you can spiral further, Jeno’s hand reaches for your face, his fingers gently tilting your chin upward until your eyes meet his. The world seems to still again under the weight of his gaze. His eyes are soft, filled with understanding, and without a word, he tells you everything you need to know—focus on me, not them.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, sultry, yet threaded with that same kindness and softness you remember so well. His arms find their way back around your waist, pulling you close once more. The feel of him pressed against you again sends a wave of calm through your body, making you forget about all the eyes still watching.

You clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. “Oh, I made a new friend, and she brought me to this party. She kinda dragged me along, she’s over there—” you ramble, gesturing vaguely in Yeji’s direction.

“I meant… what are you doing here? In Seoul?” he cuts you off, his gaze steady as he searches your face for the real answer.

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise. “I transferred to this campus today.”

Jeno’s lips quirk into a small smile. “I’m a student here too.”

You nod, the realization slowly sinking in. “Did you end up doing engineering?” you ask, your voice soft, almost tentative. You fight the urge to reach up and run your fingers through his hair—it was always so soft, so tempting.

He nods, holding back a grin. “Yeah. And you?”

“Journalism,” you reply, your words barely above a whisper, your gaze never leaving his.

“I knew it,” he says, his smile widening as if he’s always known that was your path.

The air between you hums with something unspoken, something simmering just beneath the surface. You suddenly become aware that his arms are still around your waist, holding you close, and the weight of his touch makes your pulse quicken. His body is pressed against yours, so close that you can feel the heat of him radiating through your clothes. Without hesitation, you slide your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Jeno hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he looks down at you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something you can’t quite place. His hands move slowly, trailing up and down your spine, the light touch sending shivers across your skin. He never lets his hands go lower, even though part of you wishes he would.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, his gaze never wavering from yours. The words hang in the air between you, thick with meaning, and you can feel your heart stutter in response.

You don’t trust your voice to respond, so you just smile up at him, the warmth of his words seeping into your skin, making you feel seen, understood, and undeniably desired.

You swallow, the heat between you nearly overwhelming, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip from your lips. “Do you wanna go somewhere more private?” Your voice is a little shaky, but the meaning is clear. “We have a lot to catch up on, and this party is kinda dead, anyway.”

Jeno’s eyes widen slightly, and then he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “This is my party,” he reminds you, his lips quirking into a teasing smile.

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling a little sheepish. “Right…”

You feel your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you mumble, “Well, you haven’t been partying.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh, then leans down, his voice barely a whisper. “Come with me.”

He pulls back just enough to slip his hand into yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you. The second his arms leave your waist, you feel the absence of his presence, but then his hand squeezes yours, and he gently pulls you through the crowd, guiding you with purpose. The whispers and stares fade into the background as you follow him, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Jeno leads you down a hallway, away from the thrum of the party, and finally into his room. It’s a simple space, neat but lived-in. A TV is mounted  against the wall next to a desk cluttered with papers and books, and his bed is neatly made, the navy blue sheets crisp against the low lighting. The room smells faintly of him—clean, comforting, with a hint of something warm and masculine. He lets you step in first, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you’re on him, and he’s on you—there’s no hesitation, no space left between you. Your lips collide with his in a heated, desperate kiss, as if neither of you can wait a second longer. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist with a hunger that makes your knees weak, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, not that you care.

You can feel his need, the urgency in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his lips devour yours like he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands are tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer, matching his intensity. Tongues meet in a fevered rhythm, gasps escaping between kisses, the room thick with the heat building between you.

Without thinking, you jump into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he steadies you with a low grunt, his strength evident in the way he holds you so effortlessly. He fumbles for the light switch, turning it off, and the room is instantly bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candles—ones he had lit earlier. The dim light casts shadows across the room, making the moment feel even more intimate, more romantic.

With one hand, he locks the door behind you then with a gentleness that contrasts with the fire burning between you, he carries you over to the bed, lowering you carefully onto the soft sheets. His gaze never leaves yours, full of so much longing and adoration it makes your breath catch. For a moment, he just stares down at you, as though memorizing every detail, every inch of you.

Then he’s on you again, pulling you into his lap, his hands roaming your back as your lips crash together once more. This time it’s even more desperate, the tension between you palpable as soft moans escape both your lips, mingling in the heated air. His hands move up your spine, gently tugging at your clothes, and you respond in kind, your fingers working to undo his shirt, your skin buzzing with anticipation.

You grind down against him, feeling how hard he already is beneath you, and he groans, his grip tightening on your waist. The heat between you is overwhelming, the connection almost too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, something lingers—something you need to say.

You pull back, your lips parting from his with a soft gasp, and he groans again, clearly frustrated by the sudden distance. His brow furrows as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his desire for you unmistakable. “We can have sex after…” you whisper, your voice soft but insistent as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, hoping he understands. “I just want to talk to you now.”

He exhales, the tension in his body easing slightly as he nods, offering you a patient, if slightly strained, smile. He hums softly, his hand still resting gently on your waist, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he nods, silently encouraging you to go ahead and speak.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, the words barely above a whisper, but the heaviness of them palpable in the quiet room.

He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression soft but serious. The warmth of his body next to yours is comforting, yet the guilt gnaws at you from the inside out.

“I’m sorry for leaving the way I did... leaving us the way I did,” you continue, your voice catching. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jeno. I know it’s too many years too late, but please believe me when I say I wish I could go back. I wish I could’ve stayed with you all these years. I’d go back, and I’d choose you—every single time.”

You try to hold it together, but when you see a single tear escape from his eye, your own walls crumble. The tears spill over, unbidden and uncontrollable. Your hands tremble as you reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that trails down his cheek.

“I love you so much,” you choke out. “I always have, and I always will. I’ve never stopped loving you, Jeno. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you, and that will always haunt me. I’ll always regret it. I’ll always hate myself for what I did to us, to you.”

His lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but you continue, needing to let it all out, needing him to understand.

“I didn’t want to leave you. It was the hardest decision of my life and one I wish I never made. Japan wasn’t worth it... I hated every second. I missed you every single day. I didn’t even realize how much I missed you, how much I needed you, until today.”

The vulnerability of your words hangs in the air between you, raw and exposed. The years of separation suddenly feel like nothing as you bare your soul to him. Jeno had always been the one you could unravel yourself for, the one who knew every emotion, every thought, even when you tried to hide it. It was strange to realize that after all this time—after all the changes life had thrown at you—your feelings for him were unchanged, as deep and intense as ever.

He sends you a tight-lipped smile, one of understanding, and gently wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb before leaning in and kissing your forehead softly, the tenderness of the gesture almost breaking you all over again.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice low and calm. “You don’t need to apologize to me. At the time, I was hurt, but I knew you had your reasons. We were so young. I never held anything against you all these years. I’ve always been proud of you. No one deserved that opportunity in Japan more than you. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. But Y/N, it’s been so long, I don’t feel the same pain as I did when you left. I accept your apology though.”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, a heavy weight lifting from your chest, though the tears still threaten to spill over. “You were always so understanding and supportive,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiles, that familiar, kind smile that always made you feel safe. “It’s not hard to be when it’s you.”

You exhale shakily, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. “I’ve been imagining this for years, you know. Finding my way back to you, having this conversation, figuring out what I’d say to make things right. I’ve never forgotten you, Jeno. Not once. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight... but it feels good, it feels like nothing changed, even though I know everything has.”

His eyes soften as he listens, his hand still resting on your cheek, grounding you in the moment. But there’s a question hanging in the air, one that you know he has to ask.

“Why didn’t you contact me again?” he finally says, his voice gentle, not accusatory, but filled with genuine curiosity. “You had me blocked on everything. I tried to reach out, but I couldn’t.”

You lower your gaze, shame creeping up on you, and you bite your lip. “I didn’t have you blocked at first,” you admit quietly. “But after how I left things, after that massive fight we had... I didn’t think I deserved to be in your life anymore. I felt so guilty, Jeno. I didn’t think I deserved you, so I blocked you to stop myself from calling, from telling you how much I regretted it.”

He nods slowly, processing your words. “So why now? Why did you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Time has gone on, and a lot has changed. I’ve grown up, and I’m not losing you again.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, softening the lines of tension that had been there moments before. “So you always imagined coming back to me?” he repeats, echoing your earlier words with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You smile through the tears that still linger in your eyes. “I always knew I’d find my way back to you.”

Jeno's grin widens, and without warning his lips capture yours again, but this time there’s a deliberate, slower intensity behind the kiss. His hands glide up to cradle your face, fingers strong yet gentle, as he guides you back onto the bed. His weight presses softly against you, but his touch remains light, controlled, like he’s savoring every second.

He leans down, his lips tracing a path over your skin, brushing across your forehead, your cheekbones, down to your jaw. Each kiss is unhurried, but there’s a quiet hunger in the way his lips linger, in the way his breath comes hot against your skin. He knows how to take his time, but there’s an underlying sense of control, a restraint that makes every touch more electric.

His hands move lower, fingertips grazing over your hips, sending shivers through you. His lips follow, trailing from your neck, down over your collarbone. His touch is confident, exploring your body with a slow, deliberate pace, like he’s memorizing every inch. There’s a heat between you, building with each press of his lips, each pass of his hand, as he continues his slow descent.

He gazes at you with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine, his eyes dark and filled with desire. Gently, he guides you onto the soft sheets, his hands never leaving your body. As he kneels between your thighs, his fingertips trail lightly along your skin, igniting sparks wherever he touches. The anticipation builds as he lowers himself, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive areas.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, his voice husky. He places tender kisses along your inner thighs, each one drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes flick up to meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing within them before he continues his journey.

When his mouth finally reaches your core, he starts with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips soft against you. A sigh escapes you, and your fingers instinctively weave into his hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers as you hold him close. He smiles against you, clearly enjoying the way you respond to his touch.

He begins to explore with his tongue, starting with slow, deliberate strokes that make your breath hitch. He licks a teasing line from bottom to top, savoring every moment. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. He nips lightly, his teeth grazing just enough to add an edge to the softness, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Jeno,” you moan softly, your voice trembling. He responds by gripping your hips firmly, pulling you closer to his eager mouth. His movements become more passionate, his tongue circling and flicking in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. The heat between you intensifies, every nerve ending alive under his attentive care.

He sucks gently at first, creating a delicious pressure that builds with each passing second. Then he increases the intensity, drawing you deeper into a haze of sensation. The wet warmth of his mouth contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening your awareness of every movement.

Your back arches off the bed as you feel yourself losing control. You tug at his hair, a silent plea for more, and he groans appreciatively, the sound vibrating against you and adding another layer of pleasure. His name falls from your lips like a mantra, each syllable filled with need.

He adjusts his approach based on the shifts in your breathing, the tilts of your hips guiding him. One hand remains firmly on your lower abdomen, pressing just enough to enhance the sensations rippling through you while he releases his other hand from your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, his grip is reassuring yet possessive. Holding your gaze, he spits softly, the unexpected act intensifying the slickness and sending a thrill through you. “You taste so good,” he whispers against you before diving back in with renewed fervor.

His tongue moves expertly, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure to push you toward the edge. The combination of his mouth and the subtle squeeze of his hand around yours creates a connection that feels both electric and intimate. The sounds filling the room—the soft slurping, his occasional groans, your escalating moans—blend into a symphony of raw desire.

The tension within you coils tighter, a wave of heat building low in your belly. “Please… don’t stop,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. He answers by doubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more deliberately. He nips and sucks with just the right amount of pressure, his movements confident and unrelenting.

Your thighs tremble around him, and your grip on his hair tightens. The world narrows to the point where only this moment exists—the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, the intense gaze that holds you captive.

With one final, perfectly placed stroke, the wave crests. Pleasure crashes over you in powerful surges, your body shuddering as you cry out his name. He doesn’t let up, guiding you through the climax with gentle licks and kisses, prolonging the bliss until you’re left utterly spent.

As you sink back into the softness of the pillows, your breathing is heavy, your body still trembling from the waves of pleasure. Jeno doesn’t pause; he continues his gentle ministrations, planting soft, deliberate kisses up your inner thigh. Each kiss sends a shiver up your spine, a lingering promise of more to come. When he finally meets your lips, the kiss is deep and deliberate, letting you taste your own arousal on him, mingling it with his desire.

A soft whine escapes you as you feel the hard press of his erection against you. It’s not just the contact but the intent behind it that makes your heart race—a palpable reminder of your shared hunger. You reach down, your fingers encircling his length, and the contact pulls a guttural moan from deep within you. He’s slick with anticipation, his size as formidable as ever. As your hand glides along him, you’re reminded of the first times—those initial encounters where his size was an exhilarating challenge. The memory of how he filled you completely, stretching you deliciously, flashes through your mind. Even the way he felt in your mouth, substantial and overwhelming, rushes back, tinting your cheeks with desire.

Jeno’s eyes darken with desire, locked onto your movements. His breath hitches as you explore, recalling the precise ways to stoke his arousal. As your hand moves, he suddenly grips it gently, stopping your motions. “Don’t baby, I won’t last,” he murmurs with a strained moan, his voice thick with lust. This interruption, laden with urgent need, sends a thrill through you, underscoring the intensity of the moment and the deep, carnal connection that continues to draw you irresistibly together.

He groans softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you have a condom?” Jeno asks, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and desire.

You shake your head, feeling a flutter of nerves and longing swirling in your stomach. The dim light casts a soft glow over his familiar features, highlighting the depth in his eyes. “Jeno… I’m literally a virgin,” you whisper, your cheeks flushing slightly.

His brows raise, a playful disbelief dancing across his face. “No, you’re not. I took your virginity. Are you saying I never used fuck you good enough?”

You smile softly, running your fingers through his tousled hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers. The familiar gesture brings a rush of memories—stolen glances, shared laughter, the way his touch used to set your skin on fire. “No, I’m saying you were the last person I had sex with,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long time for me, so I don’t just carry around condoms.”

He blinks, surprise and a flicker of emotion crossing his gaze. “The last time we had sex was five years ago,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip. “I know we used to have a lot of sex but that’s a long time.” He whispers. 

“It’s been six years,” you correct him softly. “I’ve not even wanted to fuck anyone else, I was never able to get over you even if I tried to move on.” 

He leans back slightly, eyes widening as realization dawns. “Wait, seriously?” His gaze softens, a mixture of surprise and something deeper reflecting in his eyes. “It’s only ever been me?”

You nod, a hint of vulnerability beneath your steady gaze. “Yes,” you admit quietly. “It’s always been you.” 

A slow, affectionate smile spreads across his face. “Well, that’s good to know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “Because I don’t want anyone else.”

He gazes deeply into your eyes, his breath warm against your lips. “Are you on the pill?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with a mix of desire and concern.

You shake your head slowly, feeling a potent mix of frustration and longing swirling within you. The heat between your bodies is almost unbearable, every inch of your skin alive with anticipation. “I want you,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. “I want you to come inside me. Just fuck me, please.”

His eyes widen slightly, a storm of emotions flickering across his face—desire, hesitation, and something deeper. “Y/N… are you sure?” he asks, his tone serious as he cups your face gently in his hands. His thumbs brush lightly over your cheeks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“Yes,” you affirm, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “I need you. I’ll take the morning-after pill.”

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Alright,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I need you too.”

As he enters you, it's as if the world narrows to just the two of you, every sensation amplified. The initial stretch is intense—a blend of sharp pleasure and a fleeting ache that steals your breath. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to him, the fullness both overwhelming and profoundly intimate. Tears well up in your eyes, not from pain, but from the cascade of emotions flooding through you. You never anticipated that this night would lead you here, wrapped in the arms of the man you've always loved. It feels right, destined—as if every moment in your lives had been guiding you back to this point.

"You're so tight," he whispers, his voice strained with a mix of restraint and desire. He moves slowly, each deliberate thrust gentle, allowing you time to acclimate to the depth of connection between you. His eyes never leave yours, filled with concern and an affection that makes your heart swell.

You blink up at him through blurred vision, feeling both vulnerable and cherished under his gaze. "So you forgive me? Do you still love me?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with hope and uncertainty.

His lips brush tenderly across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that have escaped. Each touch ignites a warm spark beneath your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I never stopped loving you," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm that eases the lingering doubts in your heart. The sincerity in his eyes reflects the depth of his feelings, making the moment all the more poignant.

As his movements begin to find a steady rhythm, the heat between you intensifies. The slow, sensual glide of his body against yours builds a mounting tension, each motion drawing you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you exist. Your fingers intertwine above your head, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's anchoring himself to you. The intimacy of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest, solidifying the unspoken promises hanging in the air.

"Wait," you breathe out between soft gasps, “Can we go to mine? The bed isn't as big but I want to show you some things.” 

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your skin. "Baby... I'm literally inside of you right now," he teases, disbelief and amusement mingling in his expression.

A laugh bubbles up from your lips, mingling with the quiet moans filling the room. "I know you are! I just meant after." you exclaim, a smile spreading across your face as a blush warms your cheeks.

“Wowww, I haven’t even finished fucking you in my bed and you’re already wanting me to fuck you in yours? So impatient, baby…” he tuts playfully, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You pout, a playful glint in your eyes. “I just want to show you my room and the cute dresses and skirts I got.”

He coos softly, leaning in to press his lips against yours, the kiss warm and tender. He promises you that he’ll go to your place tonight and that you can show him everything you want, and that you’ll do whatever you have in mind.

His affectionate shake of the head softens his expression, a mix of amusement and adoration shining through. “You haven’t changed… still the yapper you always were.”

“Hey!” you protest lightly, squeezing his hand with a mock glare, though the laughter bubbling between you both erases any tension. The moment feels light, full of shared history and comfort, wrapping you in a warmth that feels both familiar and cherished.

His lips move to yours once again as he begins to move with purpose inside of you, each thrust deliberate and steady, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. The sensation of him filling you completely is both overwhelming and exquisite. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, as if molded for each other. His cock feels thick and warm inside you, the veins pulsing against your inner walls with every movement. The slickness between you eases his glide, intensifying the friction that draws soft moans from your parted lips.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. The angle shifts slightly, and he hits a spot that makes you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice strained with restraint. A sheen of sweat forms on his brow, and his dark hair falls messily over his eyes. You reach up to brush it aside, your fingers trembling as they trace the contours of his face.

"Jeno," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of skin meeting skin—the rhythmic slap that echoes in the room, punctuated by your shared breaths and quiet whimpers. The scent of desire hangs heavy in the air, a heady mix that makes your head spin.

He gazes down at you, eyes filled with a mix of lust and tenderness. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck. His lips are warm and soft, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arch your back, pressing your chest against his. The friction of your bodies sends sparks of electricity coursing through you. Your hands roam over his toned back, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath your touch. Each thrust drives him deeper, the intensity building with every passing second.

The pleasure mounts, a coil tightening low in your belly. His pace quickens, hips snapping with a newfound urgency. The sounds of your passion grow louder—his low grunts mingling with your breathy moans. "I can't get enough of you," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

"Don't stop," you plead, your head thrown back as he hits that perfect spot again and again. The world blurs at the edges, your focus narrowing to the exquisite sensations he's drawing from you. You moan softly, your head tilting back as he kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck. “Right there,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a sigh.

“Like this?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone carries a hint of teasing, but his eyes are filled with tenderness.

“Yes,” you reply, your fingers digging gently into his back as you encourage him to maintain the rhythm.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he brings them above your head. The gesture is both protective and possessive, anchoring you to him. The intimacy of it sends a warm rush through your body.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You meet his gaze, losing yourself in the depths of his eyes. The connection between you transcends the physical; it’s as if your souls are touching.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue dances with yours, the taste of him intoxicating. Your lungs burn for air, but you don't dare pull away, not wanting to break the connection.

Your bodies move in perfect harmony. The bed creaks beneath you, the sheets tangled around your entwined limbs. A thin layer of sweat slicks your skin, making every touch slippery and electrifying.

"I'm close," you gasp against his lips, your nails digging crescents into his back. The tension inside you winds tighter, threatening to snap.

"Me too," he groans, his rhythm becoming erratic. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he pins it gently above your head. The gesture is possessive yet tender, grounding you in the moment.

You whine softly, tears welling in your eyes as you instinctively cover your face, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Each moan that escapes your lips is a testament to the intensity building within you. “Look at me,” he urges again, his gaze searching yours with a dark intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body. When you don’t move your hands, he gently pries them away, his voice low and sultry as he warns, “If you cover your face again, I’ll get handcuffs.” The threat hangs in the air, electrifying the moment and deepening the tension between you.

Your eyes meet his, locking in a gaze so profound it feels as though he’s seeing into your very soul. The stern edge in his expression softens abruptly, replaced by a tenderness that takes your breath away. His movements slow, each thrust becoming deliberate and filled with meaning.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice rough with passion yet laced with vulnerability.

Your heart swells, the raw emotion in his eyes mirroring your own feelings. “I love you more,” you manage to reply, the words tumbling out amidst your mounting ecstasy.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, soulful kiss. The world around you fades as you melt into him, every sensation intensified—the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, the way his breath mingles with yours.

With a final, deep thrust, the coil inside you releases. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your vision white-hot as you cry out his name. Your inner walls flutter and clench around him, pulling him deeper.

Feeling you come undone pushes him over the edge. He groans loudly, his grip on your hand tightening as he spills into you. The warmth of his release fills you, a intimate claim that leaves you both trembling.

He collapses gently onto you, careful not to crush you under his weight. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and ragged against your skin. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own.

For a few moments, neither of you moves, both riding out the lingering pulses of pleasure. The room is filled with the sounds of your slowing breaths, the air heavy with the scent of sex and something deeper—reconnection.

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, a soft smile curving his swollen lips. His eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. Gently, he brushes a damp strand of hair away from your face.

He moves inside you with a relentless rhythm, drawing out until only the tip remains, then thrusting back in deeply. As he pulls out, the slick sound of your combined arousal fills the air, and the visual of his glistening arousal intensifies the raw, erotic nature of the moment. Your eyes flutter, heavy with the afterglow and impending exhaustion, but he’s quick to gently catch your attention.

“Don’t sleep now, remember you have to show me your apartment,” he says, his voice a tender nudge against the lure of sleep. You nod, half-heartedly, your body sinking deeper into the comfort of his bed and his arms, your eyes remaining firmly shut.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Sex always did use to knock you out,” he observes with a warm laugh. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers, his hands coaxing you gently off the bed despite your protesting groan. He leads you into the bathroom where he runs a nice, warm bath. The steam fills the room as he carefully helps you into the tub, his care and attention washing over you as soothingly as the water itself.

That night, as effortlessly as slipping into a warm bath, he became your boyfriend again. It didn’t feel rushed or unnatural; rather, it was the most natural progression in the world. It was as if fate had steered you back to this exact moment, unwilling to let you waste more precious time apart. Despite the years, the foundation of your relationship remained unshaken; tonight, you simply continued building upon it, marveling at how natural it felt to be together, how much you both had grown.

Later, nestled against him, the vulnerability of your conversation mirrors the intimacy you’ve shared physically. “I still don’t understand why you forgave me so easily though,” you murmur, half-dazed by sleep and contentment.

Jeno’s response is tinged with the wisdom gained from years of reflection, “I was mad at first but then I calmed down. Being angry wouldn’t help either of us. Besides,” his voice softens, “there’s a reason you’re back here with me now. No point in wasting any more time.”

Your mind spins briefly with the image of him with someone else, but his next words reassure you, “You’ve been the only one for me. I never stopped loving you.”

You laugh, a soft, disbelieving snort, “And to think you’ve been the only man I’ve ever been with.”

He grins, the sound of his laughter mixing with yours in the quiet of the night. “And the only guy you’ve had sex with… I still can’t believe it.”

Your voice is playful, yet curious, “So how many girls have you been with other than me?”

Jeno's response is nonchalant, a casual shrug catching the dim light of the room, “Honestly, I don’t keep count.” His tone is dismissive of the past, focusing only on the present moment with you.

“Hey,” you interject gently, shifting the conversation as your eyes soften and your voice drops to a more vulnerable tone, which he immediately responds to with a comforting hum and an encouraging smile.

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation. Despite the clear affection and warmth in his eyes—a testament to his feelings—doubt whispers through your mind, pushing you to seek reassurance.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of your insecurities. His simple affirmation, laden with years of unspoken emotion and a steadfast commitment, resonates deeply, offering you a profound sense of peace and belonging. His eyes hold yours, reinforcing his words, a silent vow that despite everything, his heart has remained irrevocably yours.

──────────────────────────────

authors note — i know i’ve been really inactive, this work doubles as a sorry and a thank you for an amazing follower milestone i’ve just reached <3 mwah mwah enjoy. make sure you leave an interaction if you enjoyed it xx

[onlyhyunjin]

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

NEW BEGINNINGS - @ikeuverse (flirting with your brother's brother-in-law wasn't in your plans after returning from studying abroad. it wasn't something you were going to stop either since heeseung was the epitome of beauty. but when there's another woman's name in the story. what happens? you don't want to be caught between a betrayal… or so you thought.) (♡)

MARRY ME - @ikeuverse (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)

TIDES OF REGRET - @pprodsuga (in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.) (♡)(🔞)

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER - @i2sunric (your daughter asks heeseung to tell the greatest love story of all and he takes the chance to narrate how he met you, the love of his life.) (♡)

JUNE BLOSSOMS - @soobnny (synopsis. as the month of may ends, you wonder what june holds for you and heeseung (especially with no more need to fake date.)

LATE SUMMER LOVIN' - @4am-enha (you desperately want to spend your last summer here in town with your friends, only to find out almost all of them are away on vacation. that is, all of them but heeseung. the one friend you’d never really been that close with.)

BITE ME - @drunkhazed (“I’m kind of confused still.” You admit, anxiously shuffling to sit without making eye-contact. Heeseung chuckles plopping down by your side, arm slinging back over your shoulder to keep you pressed against him.)(🔞)

COFFEE & CREAM - @ham-st4r (one chilly night after a long work shift, you’re unfortunately forced to walk home. Cause you left your bag at work, half way through your journey you stumble across a homeless man who you naturally offer money to, and he though he refuses. You give it to him anyway, and down the road, you’ll find that those two dollars changed not only his life but yours as well.) (🔞)

IT'S CUPID, STUPID - @mygnolia (To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?)

FUCK BUDDIES - @hajunzi (y/n and heeseung and fwb after heeseung win in his football match y/n gives him the best reward)

TEETH - @gyuuberryy (you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy.)

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM - @simpjaes (You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.) (🔞)

RUDE - @4wkjun (heeseung has never loved anyone as much as he loves y/n. y/n’s father has never hated someone as much as he hates heeseung. but it doesn’t matter, heeseung’s gonna marry y/n anyway.)

I OFFER YOU MY EVERYTHING - @heegyukeluv (You never cared about sex, until you did. You grew too afraid of it, scared of disappointing the other person or showing your inexperience. But then you met Heeseung, the hot basketball captain that stole your heart and became your biggest fantasy. ) (🔞)

VERBOTEN - @heesbaby (a bad stroke of luck saw lee heeseung, your dads coworker, moving into your small apartment until he found his feet again. emotionally unavailable and a workaholic, you were going to try your absolute hardest to make him loosen up. even if it meant breaking a few of the house rules he'd set out.) (🔞) (♡)

10 DAYS TO FALL IN LOVE - @luvyeni (you and heeseung used to be bestfriends as children — he even told you he'd marry you one day. but then you went to highschool and things changed , he dyed his hair and started hanging out with a new group group of friends. through all that his love never changed for you — has yours changed for him?)

RENT A BOYFRIEND - @jayujus (in which jeon y/n is desperate to find a boyfriend ASAP because she needs a date for her family's mixer. her best friend, ningning, introduces her to a website perfect for this situation!)

CHERRY CHAPSTICK - @angelwonie (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)

[makethemhoesmad]

for the most part

paige b x reader

—

you never really love someone until you can’t , is what paige thinks after you’ve stormed out of her apartment, screaming at her that she never cared, that you understand that she needs to “focus on basketball,” but you’ve heard that bullshit excuse about a billion times over and it isn’t working for a billion and one. 

you never really worry unless you need to, is the thought that runs through paige’s mind when she gets a call, and someone from the hospital starts talking. paige is holding the arm of the couch, leaving fingernail marks in it while a paramedic explains that you got into a car crash, and she told them to “call paige” before she passed out, blood loss. blood loss blood lossbloodlossloss

you don’t speed, unless you have to. paige is flying down the road to get to the hospital, get there in time. because there might not be enough time

and she can’t help but think it’s her fault, because she knows you’re reckless when you’re angry. she knows, she knows she should have grabbed your wrist and begged before it was too late it’s not too late yet

you always know what to say until you don’t have time you’re listening, or paige thinks you’re listening. you’re staring at the ceiling, body stuck looking up while you wait to be wheeled into life-saving surgery. yes, wait, for life saving surgery. but as she talks, tells you that it’s gonna be alright, she loves you, she’ll see you when you’re done, she thinks you squeeze her hand, just a little

it’s hard not to feel hopeless when there’s no hope the doctor comes out, face neutral. “it’s 70/30,” she starts, watching paige’s face fall and drain of color. “30 percent chance says she pulls through. she’s strong, that’s for sure. but, her injuries were intensive. 70 percent says she’ll pass tonight. if she makes it to the morning, her survival percentage goes up.” paige thanks to doctor, and nods at the nurse’s offer to add a cot to your room. then, she goes to the little single bathroom in the corner and lets out one sob. how dare they talk about you in statistics like you’re not a living, breathing, loving girl.

wake up she’s the only one awake when it happens. she hears the heart monitor, it’s steady beeping the only thing that lulled her to sleep, knowing your heart was still holding out. but then it stopped beeping for a second too long. then two seconds, then three. then it stopped for so many seconds she stood up and rushed over to you, trying to feel your breath fanning onto her face. she hears a series of quick, erratic beeps, and then the long, you-only-hear-it-in-movies sound of a heart monitor flatlining. in that moment everything stops.

you never really miss someone until they’re gone

paige will relive that moment over and over for the rest of her life, but she will never be able to fully recall what she felt right after. maybe it’s the brain’s way of helping, dulling those memories so you don’t have to live them again and again, for the most part 

for the most part became paige’s anthem

she’s okay, for the most part 

she can move on, love someone else, for the most part 

she can be happy when she wins the 2025 natty, for the most part

maybe not that last one, actually, because maybe if she hadn’t had to focus on basketball so much to win it, you’d have been there to celebrate next to her

[eloquentlytired]

— when the time comes, part two

pairing: logan howlett x gn! reader

part one is here

drabble,fluff, wade is briefly here <3 and blind al (slay)

summary: perhaps logan’s wish to find you in a different timeline comes true. and this time he doesn't only find you, but wade as well.

author’s note: I was wondering if I should add laura somehow to this scene but I think it came out perfect like this! what if I make a part three for the dinner/table scene where they're all together with wade though enjoy babies !!! this low-key made me cryyy... as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

“this is logan.”

you turn around as wade’s voice echoes within the small apartment. you'd been roommates for a while since you both were struggling with rent and this sort of arrangement had been quite beneficial. your friendship with wade had flourished in no time and you had somehow managed to become less anxious with his help, always having silly laughs and finding nice things even in the toughest situations.

you begin moving away from the kitchen area as you hear a dialogue going on — wade, al and a voice that didn't remind you of anything.

“finally, sweet cheeks. thought i’d have to start a new pissing ritual for you to show up!” wade chimes while placing a hand on his hip and looking straight at you. Whatever follows after, it never reaches your ears.

you stand there frozen, spatula falling from your hands, as your gaze stares at the man behind wade. you don’t know him but at the same time you do. that messy hair, that beard and those eyes. whoever that man was, he must have felt what you were feeling as he also stills by wade’s side. the silence that follows is long and awkward for the others but not for you and this man; at least that's what wade points out and ruins the moment. “right. if you're done eye fucking each other — and by the way sweet cheeks I thought we had something special — but yes if you're done..” wade walks towards you and gently pushes the goofiest dog ever in your hands. what the fuck?

“—I have a bath to run. gotta get those pores unclogged before my big party.” you tried to protest but wade was already gone and al was leaving as well, muttering something about holy sugar time.

the pair of eyes across you never leave yours. you stare back at the strange man named logan; at least that's what you'd heard wade call him. “I...nice to meet you.” you finally whisper while slowly setting the dog down, your hand instinctively reaching towards logan. the taller man leans forward as well and holds your hand, shaking it in the process. “i’m logan. thanks for having me.” he murmurs and for a man his size, you didn't anticipate such simplicity and gentleness in his voice. your eyes fill with unshed tears and for an unknown reason logan reaches out to wipe them away before they stain your cheeks. you shudder at the strange familiarity of those warm digits upon your skin. logan swallows thickly. “do I know you?” he asks and you look at him with wide, sparkly eyes. you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. “it feels like it, doesn't it?” was the only reply you could offer him as he nods.

a moment passes. then two. logan drops his hand from your face, realizing the boundaries he's crossing. not that you really minded his touch. you quickly compose yourself and wipe the remaining wetness from your face before shifting your gaze in between logan and the kitchen.

“are- are you hungry,logan?” you suddenly ask, your voice kind of shaky.

the surprise on his face lasts briefly before a small but genuine smile settles on his features. “yeah. starving actually.” you chuckle. he does too.

as logan follows you into the kitchen, and despite wade’s awful singing coming from the bathroom, you think about the cheapest bed you can buy tomorrow for the third addition in your family.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 11

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; a worried Ghost; mentions of therapy/counseling; heavy drinking; kidnapping sexual content (18+)

Read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

You could scream, cry, do whatever you wanted... but when the anger subsided, the only feeling that was left was numbness. Numbness from being cheated on, numbness from your past, numbness from the fact that no matter how you felt, you still loved that fucking man.

But with that feeling of being numb, you also felt something completely shift in you. You had thought more about how you felt when you first saw those videos than anything. The confusion, pain, and shock.

The first week you missed the counseling sessions, you thought Simon was going to blow up your phone, asking why you didn't show. But when you didn't receive a single text the entire day, you couldn't help but feel.... muddled. When the chaplain emailed asking if you would be returning the following week, you could only respond that you would when you got ready. The thought of being in the same room as Simon made you worried about what you would say; what he would say.

After two weeks had passed, nothing had changed except you felt like you could breathe just a little. You worried during the first week of your space from Simon that he was going to show up, begging for you to talk to him. Or he'd stalk you when you went anywhere.... but you hadn't heard or seen him since that night. He hadn't called or texted you either.... and for the first time since it all, you groaned at the plaguing thought that would haunt you for the rest of your life - was he with someone else? You knew that staying with him meant you'd always think that... but now that he wasn't hovering over you constantly, it consumed you.

Did you want to suffer through that?

You asked Ava how she even lived with herself every day knowing her husband had cheated, but she only responded with, "Therapy.... lots of therapy, and a bottle of wine every now and again."

It was a joke that made you giggle... but you wanted to ask her why did she stay then. Why did she do that to herself... but what would that do? Like she told you before... it was your marriage, between you and Simon. No one else could or would understand it... no matter how much they thought they knew.

When Ava hesitantly suggested that you go out, you could have laughed. The voice in your ear wondering if Simon would follow you. That night of him fighting Keegan replayed in your mind so much, and each time, you fumed over the embarrassment of it. But she was right... you had been in the apartment for the last two weeks doing absolutely nothing, using your PTO at work to take time off from work. All you did was sleep, wake up to use the bathroom, maybe ate something if you really were starving.. and sleep some more.

So you did... you got dressed and went out.. by yourself. You felt guilty for even thinking about asking Ava to go out damn near every day after she got off of work, even though you knew she would have. You also didn't want her to get involved if Simon decided to show up randomly.

And then, when a month had passed, you couldn't even grasp the fact that you had gone out a lot. Resorting to either getting a drink by yourself or eating dinner by yourself. It felt nice a bit; normal even.... being out alone. You felt truly alone... even somewhat shutting yourself off from the world. It was like the more you drank, the more you wanted to do it. It helped you not think about him.

So there you were, sitting at the bar with one of those dresses that had most men looking at you while you sipped on your fifth martini.

"Seems you're enjoying yourself tonight," a voice with a slight accent said as he sat down.

You turned your head to the left, seeing a man with striking blue eyes and brown hair glance at you. He didn't even hide the fact that his eyes raked over your entire body, stopping at your hip before meeting your eyes again.

You hummed, glancing at his broad shoulders before you looked at his face again. He smirked, making a soft grin form on your lips. He wasn't that attractive.... but for some reason, he did make you slightly blush. Maybe it was the liquor that you drank fast.

"Mind if I buy you a drink?" He asked.

At least he was polite.

You agreed, and he motioned for the bartender over as he told him his drink order and got you another martini.

"Thank you," you whispered, looking down at your empty glass.

"What kind of man would I be if I didn't see a pretty lady sitting by herself without buying her a drink," he grinned, "Now what's a... stunning woman such as yourself sitting in a place like this alone?" he asked.

Even with his smile, he had a certain look to him that both intimated and intrigued you. Not necessarily in a sexual way... but in a way that had you curious.

You playfully scoffed, "I like being alone.... you don't get hurt when you're alone."

His eyebrow raised at your bitter comment, and you were thankful when the bartender sat your drinks in front of you. You grabbed the glass and took an immediate sip.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked.

You side-eyed him, wishing you hadn't said anything. But you couldn't help it. "Something like that." Another hum left his lips as he took a sip of his own drink.

"Know what you mean...... dealing with my wife cheating on me so. . "

Your eyes widened as your body tensed, and instantly he noticed. His eyebrows drew together a little, "Seem like you know what that feels like." You couldn't say anything. All you could do was take a gulp of the martini, wishing the ground would swallow you up. "With the ring on your finger, I take it as you have a lot on your mind," he observed.

"Yeah.... I do." You glanced at the missing wedding band from his finger, "Do you still love her?" What a stupid question.. a personal one at that. You were asking him questions about his business.

A sour chuckle escaped his lips as he glanced ahead of him, "Yeah.... but I'm too angry right now."

You understood exactly what he meant. You were the same way with Simon. "Do you think you'll stay with her?" you asked as you gulped, like him telling you would provide you with the answers to your situation.

He shrugged, "I don't know... right now, I just want to think about something else," he smirked at you once more, "Like how I'm sitting next to you."

God, you hated how pink your face and neck turned at him saying that. You cursed yourself for drinking those martinis too fast earlier.

"You think flirting will make you feel better?" you teased, earning a chuckle from him.

"Mmhmm. I think it makes you feel better too."

Giggling, you raised an eyebrow as you gazed at him, "You think?"

He downed the rest of his drink while his hooded eyes remained on you, before he placed the glass on the table, "You know what I think? I think you should come back to my room." He bluntly said.

"You don't live here?" he shook his head, "And why should I? You don't even know my name." you joked.

"That's the exciting thing about it, isn't it?"

You hummed... downing the rest of your martini.

************************************************************************

Breathy moans escaped your lips as the mysterious man softly kissed your neck as you straddled him on the bed. All obvious thoughts left your mind the moment you took the last sip of that martini. The world around you was spinning in a slow way. You knew exactly what was going on, but you felt too gone to control anything. It made a twinge of uneasiness flow down to your core when he placed his hands on your hips.

"You're so much hotter than my wife," he breathed out, making your eyebrows furrow together.

Ignoring his choice of words, your hands found their way into his hair, making him moan as he licked on a sweet spot by your ear. You slightly internally cringed at the feeling. It was foreign.

Maybe it was because you hadn't had sex in a while. Maybe it was because you were so used to Simon's touch. Whatever it was, it was making your head fuzzy, and before you knew it, the stranger had you laying on your back with your panties to the side and his head between your legs.

Damn those martinis.

But you couldn't deny that his mouth on you made something stir in the pit of your stomach. And after several confusing and blissful minutes, you were orgasming over his tongue. When you eventually came down from that pleasure, he raised his head, smirking at you as you tried to even your breathing.

************************************************************************

The next few days, you walked around like you didn't know what to do. After you left that hotel room, you called a cab to go home, and the moment you entered the apartment, you ran to the bathroom like someone was chasing after you. You couldn't believe you had done anything with that guy.... but also... you could. You had so much pent-up sexual frustration leading up to the point you were at least relieved he helped solve the issue. You at least didn't even have to do anything back to him.

But in the back of your mind, you were almost worried that Simon would find out. That he would somehow find the guy and kill him. You didn't want to be responsible for someone's death all because you and your husband were going through shit. On the other hand, you really didn't care if Simon found out, though. He probably had been sleeping with another girl already since he hadn't talked to you in over a month.

But the hardest feeling was thinking that at the end of it all.... two wrongs wouldn't make things right. The only thing that would resolve the issue would be to either leave him for good or move on together and try to be happy. Not cheating back on him.

You thought over both of those options as you drove back to the apartment from Ava's. You thought about keeping your secret from her, but she could always tell when something was wrong... and instead of wanting to go to a bar, you opted for going to her house and spilling your guts out about the one-night stand you had.

Was it even called that if you didn't have full on sex?

The only thing she could give you advice on was to really think about what you wanted to do and stop torturing yourself. Leave Simon and move on to stay and move on together.

As you got out of the car and walked the short distance to the building, an eerie silence fell in the air. The slight wind rustling the leaves was the only thing that could be heard, but you were so in your head that you hadn't paid attention to it.

It wasn't until a gloved hand clamped over your mouth and an arm wrapped around your body tightly. You tried to scream, but the moment you tried crying out, a van sped up on the curb, the door sliding open before you were dragged and thrown into it.

"Help!" you yelled, but the door shut just as fast as it opened before more hands trapped your arms and legs. You felt a sharp instrument poke your shoulder, what could only be described as a needle, as you felt it puncture your skin. Your eyes water up from the tears that were about to fall before darkness clouded your vision, and you passed out.

Okay............. I hope you all like this part as a lot of you were waiting for the cheating to happen back lol! I had completely different plans for when I first started this story but again, my mind goes all over the place so here we are lmao! As always like, comment, feedback is appreciated!

Side note: Brownie points on who you think the mysterious man was :)

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[culturalsillystine]

This ended up longer than I intended.

Here's a long rant about Zero Day, denial, and finding comfort in your sickness.

.

One of the things that's stuck with us since our first time watching Zero Day is when Cal says something about not being able to cure someone who has nothing wrong with them.

Some people get so deep into their illness that they start to tell themselves, "There is nothing wrong with me." It's self-soothing, in a way. You have nothing to fix if there's nothing wrong, right? And you get sucked further and further into it until it's all you know, so it becomes normal. There's truly nothing wrong with you, because it's your norm, and how could that be wrong?

And then you get worse and worse until something happens. It could be something bad, such as Cal and Andre's case. Something people would usually never consider. But when you're sick, you're sick, and things don't make sense, and it doesn't matter what people would or wouldn't consider. Because you would, and you're normal. There's nothing wrong with you.

That, or you get help. And Andre briefly mentions something, I think it may be before what Cal says? I'm not sure, correct me if I'm wrong. But he mentions something, says that even if they did get caught and got put in counseling or something, they'd get out, and they'd still do it.

And that leads you to wonder, is that true? Is that truly what would happen? Or are they feeling so untouchable and so powerful that they think NOTHING can stop them. Not even professional help.

And we'll never know. That's what I enjoy about Zero Day, there's so much we never know. We just have to trust these two boys who will present you with their truth, not the truth.

We see very little of Cal's family, and what we do see isn't bad. What we see of Andre's is.. conflicting. His family means well, but he's an 18 year old boy who likes guns and doesn't seem to get enough appreciation from his father. It writes itself, really.

We see none of Andre interacting with his peers, we only see Cal during the prom scenes. And the prom scenes are loud and irritating and awkward. He doesn't really try to be social, he takes the next possible chance to go to the only person he really bothers socializing with; Andre.

They're both very sick. Whether it's the same thing, something similar, or something entirely different, who's to say, but they find comfort in each other. They're both rotting away, and it's okay, because it's together. Whether or not it's based in love (platonic or romantic) or a hatred for the world so deep that your vision is blurred by your tears of rage, who knows. You never get to know.

Because the last thing those boys would want is to be vulnerable. Because that means something is wrong. But nothing can be wrong, because you're normal. There's nothing wrong with you.

I hope this makes sense and isn't incoherent.

[akutasoda]

“the longer you wait, the closer you get to suffocating”

--love wasn't necessary to be a stoneheart, and so he buried it deep beneath facade's. so far below that he couldn't recognise the signs of love even when they were staring right at him.

--warnings - gn!reader, angst no comfort(?), some fluff, unknowingly pining??, maybe ooc, wc - 1.8k

--a/n: i think im allergic to making him happy :/ anyway i feel like this is kind of rushed but rrghhh (shouts to the amazing @mitsvriii and @theother-victoria for proofreading)

aventurine never loved.

the stoneheart never knew the embrace of a loved one, soft-spoken genuine words, or even what it was to even recognise the signs. love was a foreign concept. something that wasn't needed in the world of contracts and lies, it was something that could be used against you, to punish someone foolish enough to think with their heart and not their brain.

he didn't need it anyway. in some distant past of golden sands and gleaming smiles, love was common. childlike wonder and affection was exchanged between families and those considered family, but that didn't last long. scorching flames rained down upon them, loved ones buried beneath the serene sands and forgotten.

the love made it hard to let go. traumatic to watch as every single person the boy cared for succumbed to pain and death's cold embrace, his tears did nothing. they didn't convince those that started the massacre to stop, to spare even one shred of the boy's livelihood because they didn't have love. the massacre was only a means to an end - emotional attachments were insignificant.

the scars never healed, the sights were forever engraved into the young avgins mind. the only time he could really dwell on them however was in the rare moments of silence he had. from his life as a young avgin to his life as a stoneheart, at every step and every turn something happened to him.

for someone blessed with luck, it never felt like it. they say that the end justifies the end, but he would prefer the end never arrived if he had to go through all the suffering and misfortune to get there. it was as if his luck only worked if he went through mental turmoil and struggle beforehand.

no matter what he lost, it all turned out for him in the long run. but was losing everything he had worth the luck that allowed him to live on with those memories?

---✩

you'd met through mutual acquaintances, those who weren't as afraid to let people into their lives - namely topaz.

he'd caught a glimpse of you with topaz as he roamed the halls of one of the IPC’s main buildings. naturally he was intrigued. aventurine had never seen you before and, judging from how close you and topaz were acting, you must have been of some importance to her.

topaz was approached by her colleague after you'd bid farewell a while ago. she had no obligation to actually tell him who you were, topaz liked maintaining a good work - life balance and you were a part of her personal life, aventurine was mainly a part of her work life. however, she obliged anyway, she trusted him more than the other stonehearts.

it was a short explanation, you were simply a friend of hers that she'd asked to stop by because work was piling up lately and topaz couldn't have seen you otherwise. topaz could see aventurines interest from a mile away, uncharacteristic coming from him, but she knew that he would play it off as a passing intrigue - still out of character in her opinion.

but topaz wasn't as blind as aventurine insisted he was and so perhaps she deliberately tried to ask you to visit her just before she knew aventurine was going to be around. she wasted no time in subtly introducing the two of you properly, before anyone knew it, you and aventurine proved to be an unrivaled match.

it was almost shocking how quickly you worked your way into the stonehearts life. developing a closer relationship than with anyone else aventurine knew - even topaz was shocked. soon it was like aventurine had known you since before he adopted such an identity.

you gave him a warmth that he could only dream of now. one that a previous form knew of well but now, it was a foreign concept. he couldn't recognise the signs, see what everyone else saw when you two were around each other. your constant affection was a clear sign that you were friends, but eventually somewhere along the line, that friendship blossomed into a longing for something more.

you tried subtle advances, hints and such to suggest a genuine interest in aventurine as something more. everything you laid down, he didn't pick up - if he did, he didn't show it.

however, aventurine was blind. a fool when it came to looking emotions in the face, unable to see the signs and pushing anything that bubbled to the surface as far down as possible. aventurine didn't need anything other than acquaintances or business partners - friends were a wild exception but even he sometimes denied it mentally.

everyone that knew it well enough knew, it was glaringly obvious. even to veritas as he watched the stoneheart perk up at the notification his phone showed him. undoubtedly a message from you, basing the assumption on how quickly he responded or how he smiled like a dumbstruck fool.

about half an hour ago, aventurine barged into the doctor's office and slumping down in his chair. ratio didn't care, too used to it by this point and too focused on the current problem that plagued his mind and caused him to work tirelessly to solve.

it was about ten minutes ago that aventurine resigned to his phone after ratio's lack of interaction with him - he sighed as the doctor clearly saw more interest in his equations. now, he was messaging you.

“any developments” ratio’s voice snapped aventurines head up from his phone, looking quizzically to the doctor

he paused “what do you mean?” slowly setting his phone down

now it was ratio's time to sigh “you and your obvious infatuation” pointing toward the stonehearts phone

“what? no.” a nervous laugh escaped him “acquaintances, that's all we are. you're thinking too much into this doctor”

to ratio, aventurine was clearly in denial. dismissing the situation at any given time and so he went back to his equation - it was more entertaining than fighting with aventurine’s denial.

“fine, forget i asked” ratio began to shift his entire attention away from the gambler. aventurine stared at the doctor for a bit too long

he could sense the other man's gaze and so ratio merely sighed “let me offer you some advice gambler”

aventurine almost wanted to laugh, veritas ratio offering him emotional advice. a rather comical situation in his opinion

“you have to put your heart out there, it may be broken but that's how you know you have one” ratio’s words halted him, staring almost wide eyed as the doctor retreated

maybe he should've taken that advice.

---✩

when aventurine was first assigned his mission for penacony, he immediately told you. there were no specific details involved, just that he was going away for a bit due to work and so wouldn't be around. it wasn't entirely uncommon for him to do so, and you merely acknowledged it and wished him well, a safe return even.

unfortunately, aventurine hadn't told you a key detail. he never planned to return. guilt consumed him when he didn't tell you, hearing you wish him well really set it in, but this was a choice he made. one that he was determined to not go back on.

as soon as opal gave him the whole mission brief, he knew what had to be done. accepting the mission meant accepting his fate, both him and opal were very aware. neither of them stopped aventurine however.

but aventurine didn't know how you'd react. he could guess that it wouldn't be well, seeing as barely anyone would react well to someone they cared about telling them that they planned to never return after a mission. so aventurine withheld his real intent in order to save you the trouble.

aventurine didn't want a fussy send off. admittedly the way he planned to go would be anything but quite or lowkey, but he knew that you'd try and stop him. to convince him to change his mind and find an alternative that would involve him seeing another day.

but you didn't know.

aventurine reciprocated your genuine smile when you wished him well before he finally left for penacony. that would be the last time he saw that smile.

---✩

penacony was flashy, he expected no less from the planet of festivities. bright lights, billboards, unique food on every corner and varieties of people. they would all be the witnesses to his planned spectacle, the more the merrier in his opinion.

he couldn't miss the way that his eyes lingered for a beat more than they should on certain stores. the products inside temporarily making his thoughts drift back to you, making a mental reminder to himself to buy it for you later but reminding himself that it would be pointless - although his subconscious would make him buy it and immediately sent it to you.

even in the chaos that was penacony and it's guests, you still found a way to wind up in his thoughts - bringing his thoughts about the mission to a temporary halt and having a moment of respite. brief memories flashing in his mind that made him stop and smile, the sentimentality getting to him.

but it wouldn't change his mind.

aventurine never allowed his emotions to get in the way of work. you wouldn't make an exception. he stopped caring for his own life ages ago, time and time again it was beaten into him and it was the only way he could've gotten this far.

emotions had never done anything but hurt him, caused him more pain than worth. he was no longer kakavasha. he was aventurine, one of the ten stonehearts and they valued results, not petty feelings. no business deal worked out when you let your heart get in the way.

no plan worked when every minute he was thinking about what could've been. aventurine was being dumb, you wouldn't love him. all those signals were simply you being a friend, nothing more - and he should be happy that you even saw him as such. aventurine shouldn't be wishing for more.

a heavy sigh escaped him as he snapped out of his thoughts. the lights at clock studios theme park seemed brighter, tauntingly so, as of they were out to mock him with happiness that could've been and yet he still chose the darkness of death. tucking his hand behind him, shaking, he stepped heavy steps toward the stage.

the show must go on.

---✩

it was cold.

pitch black endlessness illuminated by the symbol of nihilty’s form.

he looked down at his hands, shaking more than ever and he wasn't even putting his life on the line, then he looked up.

kakavasha.

had he died? were these the final moments of aventurine?

he'd soon learn they weren't. and as that emanator walked away, he realized that he lived. he failed. and yet, was it really a failure if he could see you one more time?

maybe, just maybe, he could finally own up to his feelings.

rest of the "series"

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn, @https-sourlimes

[hazbinshusk]

husk x afab!reader. finally expanding on my idea of torturing husk with phone sex while he's stuck tending the bar. unable to join you as long as he has guests in the lobby, and unable to reciprocate for the same reason, husk is left hard as a rock but desperate to keep listening to you come undone. featuring: sex toys, masturbation, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, soft!dom husk, cherri and angel being pains in the ass, and a frustrated bartender. 1.4k.

Husk growls beneath his breath as the newly-installed phone on the wall behind him trills at a tone that he swears is specifically designed to grind against his last nerve. Which, knowing Alastor, it might very well be. He mutters an irritated curse under his breath as he unhooks the receiver and brings it to his ear.

“What?”

A soft giggle comes as the reply, and he softens immediately, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Y’know, we really need to talk about your bedside manner, baby. That was a little too hostile for one of the residents.”

“Doll?” Husk’s voice shifts, relaxing into that velvety tone he reserves just for you.

“Last I checked,” you reply merrily. “Now about the way you answer the phone…”

He hums, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Al makes me answer the phone. He didn’t say I have to be happy ‘bout it. Hell, if anything, the bastard probably prefers it if I ain’t.”

“A good point.”

“And I don’t know if answerin’ the phone at the bar needs a ‘bedside manner’, pet.”

He can practically hear the teasing smirk in your voice. “But what if the hotel resident is in bed when they call?”

Husk pauses for a moment, raising a brow. He glances towards the sofas on the other side of the room, where Cherri is entertaining Angel and with an animated retelling of her latest drug-fueled exploits. They pay no attention to him, and he turns his back to them, leaning back against the bar and folding his free arm over his chest.

“And where are you, doll?”

“Three guesses.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, amused. “And you’re makin’ a deal out of callin’ me from your bed, because…?”

You mimic a gameshow buzzer into his ear. “Oof. Sorry, honey. Wrong answer.”

“Huh?”

“Would you like to play again?”

“…You’re not in your bed, then?”

“Uh-uh.”

Husk can’t help the small smile still playing over his lips. He winds the cord around his claws idly. “Then you are…?”

Your answer is wonderfully simple.

“In yours.”

Husk’s ears flick upward in sudden attention at the implications that rush through his mind at those two words. He can hear you breathe a soft laugh at the cattish sound of interest he makes despite himself. He glances back over his shoulder at the others and clears his throat. “If you’re lookin’ for me to join ya, baby, I’m sorry, but I think I’m gonna be stuck down here a while.”

“I know,” you say, and he can hear that your sympathy tainted with amusement. “I miss you up here.”

He hums again, eyes closing. He finishes the last of the glass he’s been nursing, the whiskey a familiar burn at the back of his throat. “Don’t do that to me, baby…”

“I’m sorry.” There’s a soft rustling sound that tells Husk you’re setting the phone against the crook of your neck. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Yeah?” Husk smiles. “How d’ya plan on doin’ that, exactly?”

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

Husk stops reaching for a fresh bottle in the moment he hears your breath catch softly. His hand tightens on the phone. “Doll. This is a new level of cruel.”

“Is it?” you ask, voice pitched higher. The change is only slight, but it makes Husk's ears twitch upward in interest. “Want me to stop?”

Husk chuckles, low in the back of his throat. God, how he wishes the others would just fucking leave. “I want you to tell me exactly what you’re doin’ up there, all alone.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You let your head fall back against the pillows with a soft moan, a smile on your lips as you hear Husk growl under his breath in response. You giggle quietly, rolling your nipple between your fingers.

“I need your hand between your legs now, baby.” he tells you roughly, and the tone in his voice sends a thrill directly down your spine. It makes you shiver, and you gasp as you pinch your nipple roughly. You've been teasing yourself like this, letting your hands roam down over your stomach to graze the top of your thighs before returning to your breasts... and every time, mapping out the journey your fingers take for your audience. His voice drops further, no doubt mindful of the others in the lobby. "I need to hear you tell me how wet you are."

"Yes, sir," you reply, smiling wider as he curses under his breath at the title. You let your hand travel back down your stomach, breath catching as you dip your fingers down between your spread thighs. You slide two fingers along your slit, hips bucking up into your hand as you graze your clit. "Oh, fuck, Husk..."

"Mmmm, baby..." Husk sighs, and you can picture his eyes closing, his head tipping back. "You wet for me?"

"Mm-hm," you nod against the phone, still toying slowly with your clit. "God, Husk, this feels good..."

"Oh, you're killin' me here, sweetness," he groans. "What I wouldn't fuckin' give for..."

"I can hold out for you, baby," you tell him. "I can keep playing... all by myself... get myself all wet and trembling and... fucking desperate for you until you can finally come and..." you moan as you slide two fingers into yourself, cradling the phone against your shoulder so you can keep playing with your clit with your other hand. "...and fuck me so deep and..."

The sound Husk lets out is a mix of a cattish growl and a groan, and you push your hips up against your palm as you fuck yourself on your fingers.

"You're already so close, aren't you, doll?" Husk asks, and you can hear the knowing amusement playing against his arousal.

"Yes, sir."

"Fuck..." he breathes, and it brings to mind the memory of his warm breath against your throat, his claws on your hips, and his teeth grazing your collarbone. "Fuck, baby, I-"

Husk's tone shifts, and you hear the muffled sound of the phone being lowered. "The fuck do you want, Cherri?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Woah, chill, kitty cat!" Cherri laughs, holding up her hands. "Just lookin' for a refill. You got something better to do?"

Husk swallows, shifting as his cock throbs almost painfully. He glowers at the cyclops, turning to face her. He stands almost flush against the bar to keep his erection from view. “You’re gonna wanna not call me that.”

Angel coos in faux-sympathy as he joins them at the bar, draping himself over Cherri’s back. “Ooh, I know that tone. What’s got ya down, Husky?”

“Y’mean aside from havin’ to put up with your drunk asses?”

Angel blows him a kiss, gives him a wink, and slides his empty glass across the bar towards the bartender. Husk, well-practised, has a bottle ready to pour just as it comes to a stop in front of him, eyes still fixed in an impatient glare on the two of them. “Y’know ya love us, baby.”

“What else ya got to do, anyway, bitch?” Cherri teases, swiping up her own refill. Husk bites back the urge to tell her to shove it, so, so aware of the weight of the phone in his hand. His whole body is burning with the knowledge that you’re on the other end of the line and he’s missing those pretty sounds you’re making for him.

“Yeah…” Angel draws out the word invitingly. “Ya could always come out and party with us, y’know. We can show ya the best places to get ya fur mussed.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Course ya will,” Cherri eye-rolls.

Angel’s eyes flicker down to the phone still pressed to Husk’s chest. “Ya got a better offer, pussy cat?”

Husk thanks fuck for his poker face. “Goodnight Angel.”

The porn star and his bestie cackle, and the former leans over the bar to smack a kiss the bartender’s cheek teasingly with an exaggerated, obnoxious ‘mwah!’. Husk swats him away irritably, and the two of them continue laughing on their way out the door.

There’s a beat before Husk jerks the phone back to his ear, and his flagging erection immediately swells again with the sounds on the other end of the phone. Finally, thankfully alone, Husk uses his free hand to unbutton his fly, pushing his hand into his pants.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You let out a breathless, high-pitched sound with each pump of the toy into your soaking cunt. You’d rolled onto you knees, the phone still glued to your ear despite the silence he'd left you with and your thighs quivering as your hips jerk against the cum-slick silicone between your thighs.

You'd been so close when Husk had been taken away, and the minutes he'd left you see-sawing along the precipice of orgasm is making your mind fog and your jaw clench. Each roll of your hips sends sparks of need and pure pleasure up through your core, and while the muffled, growling voice of Husk coming through the phone was enough to make you shiver, it's edging you just as much as the toy is.

So, when you hear the phone move and Husk's sharp intake of breath, it takes everything in you, eyes screwed tight and sweat on your brow, not to cum right away.

"Oh, fuck, baby..." Husk groans as you whine in his ear, his own voice torn. "Holy fuck, you sound so pretty..."

"You left me," you whimper into the receiver, grinding down against the dildo. It fills you well, but the smooth line of it leaves you wanting. Conjuring the memory of the way the barbs of Husk's cock tease when he thrusts into you makes you clench around the toy, eyes rolling back behind their lids.

"I'm sorry, baby..." he murmurs, his voice rough and breathy in the way you know means he's touching himself too. "Have you been waitin' for me this whole time?"

"Mm-hmm..."

"Such a good girl for me."

"Fuck..." you moan, pressing your forehead into the sheets. Switching the phone to speaker, you let your hand slip down between your thighs, breath catching in a squeak as you touch your clit. "Fuck, Husk... please..."

"Gonna make it up to you, baby," he promises, voice ragged. You can picture him, hand pumping at his cock, head back and a furrow between his brows. The way his chest moves staccato as he tries to keep his breathing steady, the way he thrusts into his hand. "Gonna reward you for bein' so patient..."

"H-how?"

"You're gonna cum for me," he tells you, all whiskey and smoke and raw, honeyed desire. "You're gonna cum so hard for me that you soak those sheets. So hard that I might jus' be able to hear you moan my name all the way down here, even without the phone."

"F-fuck, Husk..."

"Jus' like that, baby. You're gonna cum for me like a good girl," he continues, his voice breaking as he gets closer to his own release. "And the minute you do I'm gonna come up those stairs, an' while you're still layin' there in your own mess, twitchin' with tears in your eyes... 'm gonna come up there and taste you."

Moaning aloud, you quicken your hand against your clit, grinding down against the dildo as best you can. You can taste blood in your mouth when you bite your lip, so overstimulated that even the feeling of the sheets rubbing against your nipples with every disjointed bounce of your body over the toy does bring tears to your eyes. You can feel them staining your cheeks, joining the drool that drips from the corner of your mouth to mark the sheet beneath you.

"Husk... sir, please..."

"I want to taste every drop of you, sweetness," Husk almost growls, breaking off with a breathless haah for a moment as he tries to keep himself under control. He won't cum until you do. "I want to bury my tongue in that gorgeous, tight little cunt of yours and feel you fucking quake..."

"HUSK, I'm..."

"Cum for me, baby," he urges, and you can just hear the sound of his hand quickening against his cock under the tenor of his voice. "You're such a good girl, baby, c'mon..."

Your body curls in on itself so tightly as you cum that it hurts, your back arching and your thighs clenching around your hands. You feel your cum squirt out around the toy, drenching the sheets and your inner thighs, pooling around your knees. You collapse onto your side, body twitching with each aftershock, breath sharp and cutting around his name as you try to come down from the high.

Husk groans your name back in your ear as he cums too, gutteral and visceral and deep and it's enough to make your cunt tighten around the dildo again, cum still leaking out of you. It almost hurts to leave it in, but any move you make makes your whole body twitch and you're still trying to focus on breathing.

Husk chuckles breathlessly, brokenly in your ear as he relaxes, exhaling a shuddering breath that makes you shiver.

"Two minutes, baby." he tells you, a soft growl playing under his words. "You've got two minutes before I do exactly what I promised."

[fandomnerd9602]

Needy (🌶️)

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

Work was going well for you at the Westview sanctuary. You liked the routine, made you feel good and a little secure. But your work flow was taking a hit lately.

Your amazing doe-human mate, Wanda, warned you a month ago that she was due to enter her heat cycle. For her, it was much less entering it gracefully and more full body slam into you at a moment’s notice.

She was constantly panting, keeping herself in the bare minimum: short and a tank top. And she was taking every possible second to have a saunter in her step when she was in your viewpoint.

More times than not, you were a practical slave to your goddess. She always made sure it was before the boys woke up or after they went to bed. But lately she’s been pushing her boundaries. And one of those boundaries was your office.

Your mate came creeping into your office. Her face was flustered, her voice was desperate and begging, “detka, I need you”

“Baby I have a meeting with Tony in ten minutes” you try to tell her but she grabs your hands.

“I only need five. Please, detka!”

You bite your lip in contemplation. Did she really want you to take her right here in your office? “Promise me, you can be quiet?”

“Yes! I will be quiet!” She says, her breathing was already panting.

You gently push her against the walls of your office. She was already giggling.

“Detka,” she said her voice husky with intent, “ravage me”

Your fingers snaked under her sundress and inside her denim shorts. You gently place your free hand over her mouth. Just a precaution.

You begin to toy with her pearl. Her eyes roll backwards. A muffled moan escapes her lips. You gently caress her treasured spot, kissing her neck as you delicately work on your task.

“Oh my gentle doe,” you whisper in her ear, “such beautiful sounds you make”

Her muffled moans were a beautiful symphony.

A gentle caress builds into a soft rub. Within minutes, your doe is a whimpering mess as you slip two fingers inside her shorts and begin adding to her pleasure. She was your goddess and you were gonna treat her as such.

Within a minute, you could feel her entire body seize up. You kissed her and held her, helping to muffle her euphoric cries. Her fingers grip your shoulders as the waves of pleasure pass over her. One of her arms was wrapped around your neck, one of her legs was snaked around your waist.

Her gentle eyes reflected all the stars in the heavens. “Oh thank you. Thank you! Oh detka!” She whispered her tone still incredibly needy and desperate.

“Such a good doe” you gently tease and encourage her. You guide her to lay down on your couch. You give one last kiss to her lips, her once pristine hair, now a happy mess.

“How long will your meeting be, detka?” She asks, her voice full of need and desire.

“About an hour” you guess.

“Good” she purrs as she seductively lays there on your couch. “One hour. Not a second more. Your couch is quite comfortable and I’m getting lonely already.”

“Yes my doe” you give her a playful wink before heading out.

According to your brother in law, doe heat cycles can last a week or two. Well you and Wanda were gonna enjoy every last second of it. Your loving doe Wanda Maximoff would ensure that.

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @iiconicsfan25 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @russianredassassin @revanshand @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @julieromanoff @aloneodi

[narryffdreaming]

lia and harry's story (one)

summary: harry is a bartender and lia lives right across the street. rating: +18 || warnings: mental health (anxiety) and smut (here and there) || word count: 14,7k

some scenes are different. some scenes are still the same. but here they are again.

“Rohan isn’t working tonight.”

The toneless, husky voice echoed in the dim lights, and Lia’s heart skipped a beat as she whipped her head to her left.

Harry walked past her and towards the sink, too occupied carrying a box under one of his arms. When he stopped, he turned his back to where she was and placed the item on the laminated counter, then put his free hand into his pocket and pulled a utility knife, not wasting any other second before using it to tore the cardboard in half. 

Lia’s belly fluttered. 

White t-shirt, black pants. Sleeves short enough for her to admire the multiple tattoos covering his arms, and fabric tight enough for her to follow the movements of the muscles on his back as he pulled a few napkins and straws out of the box. 

She only needed a second for things to click inside her, and for her to remember why she decided to go to The Wandering Triplet in the first place. 

Harry’s unkempt dark brown hair curled on top of his head and also a little bit to the sides, but it seemed shorter on the back. He had clearly gotten a haircut since last week, when she last saw him at the bar, and even though Lia couldn’t see his face, she already knew that it suited him. 

She knew that he looked good. 

Really good.

No, she knew that he looked great. 

Unfairly and painfully handsome. 

Like a dream. 

Like he always did. 

Lia sighed. 

Harry grabbed the box with one hand and turned around, briefly glancing at her. He didn’t say nor did a thing, seemingly completely unamused by her presence as he looked forward and headed back towards the black curtain. 

And that’s exactly when it hit her: she still hadn’t said anything to him.

Nothing.

Not even a word.

Oh my God.

A flush of heat creeped up through the back of Lia’s neck, and her belly turned into knots. 

She shifted on her feet, straightening up and pulling her elbows closer to her body as she watched him disappear behind the thick black fabric.

Rohan isn’t working tonight. 

Rohan isn’t working tonight. 

Rohan isn’t working tonight.

Lia frowned. 

Why did he even… Ugh. 

Of course Rohan wasn’t working that night. It wasn’t something hard to figure out—she had been to The Wandering Triplet more than enough times to realize that on Wednesday Rohan always started his shift later at night, meaning that Harry always opened the bar by himself. 

Besides, why did he have to start a conversation with her like that? Why couldn’t he just have said something simple like… Hello? 

She pulled the loose sleeves of her cardigan and covered her fingers, then crossed her arms against her stomach and scanned the three shelves at the back wall. Honestly, entertaining any useless thoughts was better than overthinking Harry’s actions. She didn’t have the strength inside her to try and understand his dislike for her. Not anymore. She had already given up on that a long time ago. All she wanted was to get something to drink, get comfortable on a table, and daydream a little before going back home and dealing with all the very real consequences of that pathetic and useless day. 

Lia shook her head. 

Ugh.

White rum… White rum… Where’s the white rum? 

Since she’d walked into The Wandering Triplet for the first time, Lia had stared at those shelves long enough to realize they had a system to place everything. The one at the bottom was filled with different types of glasses, all upside-down, while the other two above were used to perfectly organize rows of many different types of alcohol.

When it came to the bottles, the still unopened ones and also the most expensive brands were at the top, while the most commonly used were in the middle, closer to their reach. From left to right, they were also careful, matching not only by type, but also organizing by brands and colors.

Another sigh left her mouth, and Lia dropped her shoulders. She knew she’d agreed with her psychiatrist that she’d wait until her body got used to the new medication, but she could’ve really used a drink that day. Not just any drink, but a mojito—it was her favorite, and Harry always made the best one.

“Ok, then. What can I get you?”

Lia jumped slightly, batting her eyelashes and shifting her arms on the counter.

Harry stood next to her, cleaning the already-clean-bar. 

She recognized his white t-shirt as one of her favorites. The design, mixing palm trees and searchlights with shades of blue and green, reminded her of one summer she’d spent in Los Angeles with her family, and the faded orange words around it made her think of an old record store. 

Harry always looked cool with that t-shirt, especially when he matched it with those black wide-legged pants he was wearing right then. He looked like someone who could be in a band, like someone who could hold a guitar in front of a crowd and make people faint at the sight.

Not a popstar or rockstar, though. Nuh-uh. He was too snappy for that. 

If Harry were a musician, he would probably be part of an indie band. Or one of those groups people never heard of until they randomly shuffled through a rainy and foggy playlist on Spotify. 

And he’d definitely be the moody and mysterious bass player, bothered only by doing his own sound and ignoring all the screaming girls at his feet. 

Bass guitar player. Yes. That would be for sure—he had great hands, and they looked perfect for the four-stringed instrument.

Harry wiped the surface forcefully, then tightened his long fingers around the light-brown towel and threw the item over his shoulder. As he held it there with one hand, he finally faced her, grasping the edge of the counter with his other hand and stretching his arm. 

Leaf, intense, green eyes stared into her boring brown ones, and Lia’s heart skipped a beat. 

He was so pretty. 

So, so pretty. 

And to daydream and imagine things was fun, but Harry wasn’t in any indie band, nor even a musician. He was simply the sulky, pretentious bartender who worked across the street from her apartment. And the guy who she had the biggest and most stupid crush on.

Harry cleared his throat, raised his eyebrows, and flinched his chin down.

Damn.

Lia shifted on her feet. 

“It’s—I—I mean…” She shook her head and cleared her throat, too. “Sorry. Just water, I think? I—Yes. Water. Please.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned around, scoffing quietly as he walked to the shelves. “Of course.”

Lia furrowed her brows and held her breath, watching him take his time while he put some distance between them. As if having to get her a simple glass of water was the most boring thing he could do. Or maybe the most annoying thing he could do. Or maybe the most tiring thing he could do. 

His reaction felt out of place, but she couldn’t be surprised, could she? After all, she was used to his awful mood, and she’d gotten really good at pretending it didn’t bother her—to the point where she almost believed it herself. 

In fact, to be honest, had it been any other day, she probably wouldn’t have even minded his behavior. She would’ve probably just accepted it and added it to the countless humiliating moments she’d lived so far. 

But it was the last thing she needed on that particular Wednesday evening, when everything had already turned out so shitty that she was both mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Lia exhaled through her nose and clenched her jaw. 

In less than eight hours, three people had already treated her with disdain and condescension, and four had made her feel inferior and weak. All she had done was to work on herself and try to step out of her comfort zone, like she promised Dr. Reisman she would do, and all she had gotten in return was… Nothing. 

So shame on her for needing some distraction, right? Shame on her for thinking that silently watching her crush from far away would help her forget about her stressful and dreadful day. Shame on her for believing that she would be able to feel at least slightly better after spending five minutes at the bar. 

A glass full of water emerged in front of her, and Lia blinked.

“There you go, princess.” Harry smiled, as blatantly sarcastic and careless as he could be, then turned around and walked back to the sink. 

Lia glared at him, tightening her hands into fists and letting her body be consumed by her heavy breathing. 

She hated when he looked at her like that. And she hated when he made her feel like a child. Harry almost never talked to her, but when he did, he seemed to always find a way to make her feel mocked or challenged to say something. Challenged to be different. Challenged to speak up. Challenged to react quicker. 

And Lia hated it. 

She truly hated it, because she wasn’t good with words. At all. And she was well aware of that. She was getting treatment because of that, for fucks sake! 

So she didn’t need anyone pointing out the obvious for her. And she didn’t need anyone making her feel even worse for not being able to actually get better. Or for constantly messing things up even though she desperately tried not to. 

Why… 

Why did it have to be so hard for her? 

And why did it have to be so hard all the damn time?

Why couldn’t she get things right? At least once in her life? 

And why on earth did she insist on nurturing that fruitless crush, anyway? 

Huh?

Why did she care about someone who didn’t know her at all? Someone who had never even tried to get to know her? 

Huh?

And also, why couldn’t Harry just let her be?

Why did he have to treat her that way?

What had she even done to him, huh? 

What had she done, besides moving across the street and being a regular customer at the bar? 

Huh? 

Huh?!!

Lia grabbed the glass in front of her and took a sip of water. Then another one, and another one. Desperately gulping down three quarters of it before putting it down on the counter again.

Harry was unbelievable.

Unbelievable!

The judgment behind every action and every word was completely unnecessary. 

So what if she was drinking water? Huh? Why did it matter? What difference did it make? She could drink whatever she wanted to, right? 

And why—why—calling her princess? What was the point? What did he even mean by that? 

Huh?

Huh?!?!

“Ok, look,” Harry said, standing in front of her with a frown on his face and arms crossed on his chest, “are you just going to stand there all night? Because I told you Rohan isn’t—”

“Oh my goodness!” Lia laughed, uncrossing her arms and taking a step back from the counter. “This is… I… You… I’m just… Ugh!”

She shook her head and looked down. Reaching for her bag, she watched her own movements as she put her hand inside it and rummaged through her things.

“I’ll go, okay? I’ll go,” she said, fishing around for her wallet. “But you know what, Harry? Considering I’ve been around here for almost a year now, and that so far you’ve never even cared to… I don’t know… At least know my name, you don’t need to try so hard to be an asshole to me all the time, y’know?” She found some cash laying around, then grabbed the notes firmly between her fingers and slammed them on the counter. “You’ve already earned the title.”

She turned around and gritted her teeth, feeling the heat reverberating through her skin as she mumbled, “Asshole.”

And then, she walked away, finally removing herself from the unneeded interaction and not even once daring to look back at his face. 

For the next three weeks, Lia didn’t go to the bar. 

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t intentional. She was busy, and life was happening. She went back to her parents house for a weekend, enjoyed the quietness of hometown, worked some extra hours, had dinner with her friends, took some alone time for herself, and then… Well, and then she also didn’t make any effort to go.

Because why would she, anyway?

“Excuse me.”

Someone shoved her, causing Lia to stumble on her feet and snap out of her mind. She looked to her side, apologizing for standing in the way while shuffling on her feet to keep her balance. 

Nobody seemed to care about her presence, though. Nor to have the slight idea of how much wondering it took before showing up again. Or to know that the last time she’d been there she’d called a bartender out for not knowing her name—and that she might’ve used the word asshole, too. 

Lia let her hair fall on her face and sighed. 

Things inside The Wandering Triplet were… Different.

Really different. 

For starters, it was way more packed than usual, more crowded than what she ever expected it to be. People stood everywhere, talking and laughing even louder than any other time. And she wasn’t sure the place had at least once smelled that much like beer and perfume. 

On top of that, two guys seemed to be playing live music, something she had definitely never seen there before. Just like a lot of the faces surrounding her right then and there.

She swallowed, then rubbed her neck. 

It was hard not to notice the way her body heat had risen. Or how her entire outfit suddenly seemed like a bad call—because, honestly, how was she supposed to not sweat under that black turtleneck? Or under the tight fabric of her jeans? Even her feet were burning up, buried in those damn leather boots.

And it wasn’t like Lia was incapable of dressing according to the situation. It was just that, well, how was she even supposed to imagine that the place would ever be so crowded?

Especially on a Monday night! 

C’mon!

Monday nights were always their quietest nights. So much so that they didn’t even require two bartenders working at the same time. 

And Lia knew that. It was exactly the whole reason why she had chosen to go back on that particular night: because Monday nights were Harry’s nights off. 

Or, well, at least they used to be Harry’s nights off.

Shit.

There was absolutely no way Rohan would be able to handle that chaos all by himself, right? 

So… 

Oh God. 

She was going to see him… Wasn’t she?

The whole therapy session, with all the planning and thinking about how she could go back there without actually having to face him, had been a complete waste of time. Right?

It had been for nothing. 

And a complete failure. 

Right? 

Right?!

Her stomach fluttered, then shot a soft tingling to her chest.

Shit.

She didn’t want to see him, though. Of course she didn’t. Not after she’d humiliated herself. 

So… She should’ve turned around and gone back home, right? Try it again on a different night, maybe. Or just find a different bar. 

Right?

Lia sighed, heavier this time. 

She couldn’t run away, though. The whole point of going to the bar again was to challenge her own thoughts and beliefs, so she couldn’t give up now. She had to try. 

Right?

Oh God.

Sliding her tongue through her lips, Lia put her hair behind her ears and focused on her destination, then squeezed her way in to make it to the counter and order herself a drink—just as she promised Dr. Reisman she would do. 

To navigate her body through so many strangers wasn’t an easy task, that’s for sure, but she eventually managed to push herself all the way across the room. Once she found herself closer to the counter, a man walked backwards, holding three beers between his hands. 

Lia turned sideways, giving him more room to walk without dropping anything. It also turned out to be the perfect opportunity for her to place one hand on the edge of the wooden bar, hold herself, and step onto the new empty space.

After that, everything felt mostly like a blur. 

Rohan was there, but he wasn’t alone. There was also a girl helping him out. A girl she hadn’t seen there before. Short, blonde hair. Long legs and arms. Tattoos on her shoulder and piercing on her nose. She handed him empty glasses and chatted excitedly, while he grabbed each with a smile and put them all back on the bottom shelf.

And then a tattooed arm abruptly flashed in front of her, and Lia lurched back. Barely catching the color of the towel being yanked in circles right next to her.

Someone yelled an order, another person called someone’s name, and another one shouted an ‘excuse me’ a couple of steps to her side. Pop acoustic covers were still playing in the back and someone dropped a couple of spoons behind the bar. 

Everything was happening at the same time. Right where she was. And yet all she could pay attention to was Harry’s figure coming to a stop in front of her.

Harry blinked once, then turned his head slightly to the side, shouting the words without removing his sea-green eyes from her. “Rohan! Lia is here!”

And just like that, Harry turned around and walked away.

And she was all by herself all over again.

Lia frowned. 

What…

Did he… 

Had Harry just called her name?

Lia is here. 

Lia is here.

That’s what he’d said, right?

Lia is here.

Her stomach fluttered.

Considering how the last thing she had said to him—besides calling him an asshole, of course—was that he didn’t know her name, that couldn’t be a coincidence… Right?

Right?!

“Lia, heyyy!" 

She lowered her gaze to the counter and furrowed her brows.

How the hell had Harry been able to do that? To disconcert her in a matter of two seconds?

Four words. That was it. That was all it had taken.

All because he had said her name.

After three weeks of not seeing him.

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Rohan stood in front of her with worried eyes and puzzled face, and Lia blinked. 

It took her a moment to realize she was still frozen in place, but she finally shook her head and looked up.

“Uh, yeah… I… Yes. Oh my God. Sorry. Yes.” She chuckled and waved her hand. “I just... Long day today. Sorry.”

Rohan nodded and smiled, too. “Gotcha. No worries! It’s nice to see you again! You look taller today.”

“Oh.” Lia leaned back and looked down at her feet, wiggling her toes inside her high heel leather boots. “Must be the shoes.” She shrugged. “Don’t wear them often.”

“You should. You look nice! So, what can I get ya? Let’s cheer you up after a long day, huh?”

Lia sighed, then cleared her throat.

Rohan’s energy was always loud. His brown eyes always sparkled with joy, and every time he smiled his entire face lit up. It definitely made it really easy to talk to him, mostly because he never gave her too much time to speak and be awkward. He moved forward, simply worrying about doing his job and constantly making sure everyone was having a good time. 

“Actually,” she said, “I don’t... I don’t know what I want. Maybe a cocktail, please? Nothing strong, though. I just… Yeah… I haven’t been drinking for a while, so... I think I’d rather be careful? You know? Sorry.”

Rohan tilted his head and grinned at her, watching her for a brief moment before he shook his head and chuckled.  

A flush creeped across Lia’s cheeks, and she bit the inside of her bottom lip.

“Of course!” He nodded, watching her as he took a step back and winked at her. “One minute, yeah?”

Rohan turned around and walked away, and Lia let the air out through her nose. 

Always the same thing. She just had to find a way to embarrass herself, didn’t she? 

Dropping her shoulders and peeking at her sides, she found Harry standing by the other end of the counter, chatting with the new bartender while they mixed a couple of drinks. 

He hadn’t changed much—or at all. The hair had probably been trimmed and he had clearly shaved at some point just to let his facial hair grow again, because his scruff looked just the same as three weeks ago. 

Even his t-shirt seemed to be the same one—until Lia noticed it actually had different writing and design. 

Her belly fluttered, just like it always did when she looked at him. And then, when she couldn’t decide if the fluttering was a good or bad feeling, her chest always tightened as well. 

It tightened with a mix of amazement, delight, frustration, and sadness. All at once. 

Because no matter how oblivious Harry was to it, he was the whole reason Lia had slowly become a regular at the bar. 

Sure, a great therapy session had led her to challenge herself and get a drink by herself. And then, that spur of the moment decision had taken her to the bar across the street—the only one that was open that night. 

But walking into the bar and meeting someone who would make her insides blaze wasn’t on her plans. And even considering challenging herself for a second time just a few days later definitely wouldn’t have happened if, that exact same night, she hadn’t met him.

Eleven months had gone by since that night, and yet Lia still winced every time she recalled it. 

Harry had taken her order, but hadn’t even smiled politely when doing so. He also hadn’t looked at least one bit excited about making the mojito she’d asked for (which later Lia thought tasted delicious, anyway). 

Even after that, no matter how many times she had stepped into the bar, he never even flinched when looking at her. Never. 

It was as if she didn’t even exist to him. 

So Lia had a crush on him, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. Harry had never hidden his lack of interest in getting to know her, so she knew he wasn’t into her. And she was fine with that. Really. 

She was fine with it. And she was more than used to it by now. Even if— 

“That’s Sage.”

Lia turned her head and straightened her back, only then noticing she’d been openly staring at the interaction between the two bartenders. 

“She just started, so Harry’s going over our signature drinks with her,” Rohan added, shrugging and smiling. “I know it can be hard to believe, but he’s pretty patient. A great guy once you get past the frown on his face.”

Lia smiled. She actually didn’t find that hard to believe at all, but she didn’t want Rohan to know how she really felt about his co-worker, or how much she had watched all along, so she didn’t share the thought with him. 

Instead, she glanced at the cocktail glass he’d placed on the counter and asked, “A martini?”

“Right!” Rohan slapped his open hand on the counter, as if bringing himself back to the conversation. “Apple martini, to be precise. Or, as some would say, appletini.”

Lia chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve had one of these before.”

“Hope you enjoy it, then.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you, Rohan.”

He curled his lips into another bright and cheerful smile. “My pleasure. If you don’t like it, next one’s on me, yeah? So lemme know.”

“Okay.” Lia smiled and nodded, wrapping her fingers around the glass and pushing her weight off the counter. “I will.”

— — — — — 

Sitting by herself, Lia took the last sip of her melted apple martini just as the two young boys finished playing another pop song from their acoustic set. 

People clapped next to her, and she left the glass on the table to do the same, tilting her head and smiling at how cute and shy the pair looked on the stage. Despite the obvious age difference, they somehow reminded her of her students when they had to perform for the first time in front of an audience, which was probably why she kept feeling the need to pay attention to them and reassure them with her eyes—a way to let them know how well they were doing up there.

They thanked politely and introduced the next song, and Lia rested her chin on the palm of her hand, paying attention to the first few chords of a song she couldn’t recognize. 

Truthfully speaking, Lia was proud of herself. Even though the place was way more crowded than she was comfortable with, and even though she’d thought about leaving multiple times, she survived the thirty minutes she’d promised herself she would try to stay. 

So she knew she had already made some good progress, and that she could now go home without feeling guilty. 

She hadn’t failed. Not that night, at least.

As a gift to herself, she allowed her eyes to wander around the bar, trying to get a glimpse of Harry before she officially left. 

She found him behind the counter, of course, all focused while chatting with his two coworkers. He listened to whatever Rohan was saying, nodding along while pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. But then, something in the story caused him to widen his eyes and drop his hand to Sage’s shoulder, holding the shock on his face firmly for a moment before he finally threw his head back and laughed. Loudly. Bringing his free hand to his chest while his entire body seemed to shake. 

Lia’s belly fluttered, and she was pretty sure both of her lungs had stopped working. 

He was just so… Attractive. 

So hypnotizing. It was like she couldn’t take her eyes away from him.

And she knew how silly she was for it. For wanting him that bad. 

She knew it. But she couldn’t help it. 

She just couldn’t. 

A group of people approached the counter, and Rohan automatically got back into work mode, walking towards them. Harry and Sage were left behind, then, but they quickly seemed to engage into more conversation. Happy, interesting conversation. 

Jealousy sparked in her chest, but Lia still watched him with nothing but fascination. She watched the way he crossed his arms on his chest, and also the way he kept raising one of his hands to gesture whenever he talked to Sage. 

Lia is here. 

His words echoed inside her mind, and Lia knew, right then and there, that later at night she’d be in bed and think about the way he’d said her name. Over and over again.

She’d think about the way he treated the new girl, and she’d dream about him treating her like that, too. 

She knew it, because she’d been there before. Because after that first night at the bar, watching Harry became like a hobby to her. And because in the eleven months she’d been there, even though it hadn’t been that often, there had been a time when Lia used to see him with a woman at the bar. A girlfriend, perhaps. Someone who was obviously older than him, but just as tall, and had shoulder-length, perfectly straight, dark auburn hair. Someone who’d always seemed too elegant and sophisticated for The Wandering Triplet, and yet had never looked out of place. Effortlessly delicate and powerful at the same time. Someone who carried herself in a way that screamed confidence, as if she’d never known what it was like to feel insecure about herself. 

During those nights, when that woman used to be at the bar, Lia always stood a little bit afar, not wanting to be disrespectful to them, but still allowing herself to catch some glimpses of a completely different version of him. 

A more natural, vulnerable version. Where Harry would laugh so loud he would drop his head back, or peck her lips multiple times, and even caress her cheek in between customers. Where he would whisper in her ear, make her smile, and stare deeply into her eyes when she did all the talking. Where he would also walk her out of the bar holding her hand, or hug her waist when guiding them to his car. 

It was obvious to Lia — and probably to anyone who looked at them, to be honest — how much they appreciated each other’s company, and how much he cared for her. It was also very clear how much Harry enjoyed the affection. How much he enjoyed being touched and taken care of. 

And embarrassingly as it was, more than once Lia had woken up highly aware of dreaming about him. Recalling false, vivid memories of her replacing that woman, and of Harry touching and kissing her, instead.  

Lia shifted on her seat, withdrawing her chin from her hand and rolling her shoulders. Hoping to push those thoughts away, but also praying people never find out they even existed in the first place. 

Focusing her sight on them again, Lia caught Rohan walking back to Harry and Sage. He stood with his back turned to her, and the other two resumed their attention on whatever he had to say. 

She watched a little bit more, just to enjoy those couple minutes before she left. Music played in the background, and people chatted jazzily all around her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, though. She just couldn’t. 

So handsome.

Harry lifted one hand, pulling his short hair back and out of the way, and then crossed his arms again. He listened to Rohan, and to everything he had to say. He focused, nodded, and offered his own comments from time to time. Giving his co-worker all his attention, solely and purely. 

Until he drifted his sight to the side and met her stare. 

Lia held her breath and gulped down, freezing as his eyes settled inside hers. 

Oh God.

Her heart palpitated. And her breathing sped up. 

It was hard to be one hundred percent sure of what was happening when he was so far away, but it was also hard to have any doubts when he was so intense that she could feel him all through her body. And when he didn’t seem to make any attempt to avoid her gaze. Or move. Or look away. 

Oh my God. Oh my God. 

Oh my God!

A heavy and empty feeling spread in her stomach, and Lia looked away. 

What the hell was even happening?

What was she supposed to do?

Why was he looking at her?

Was he actually looking at her?

She glanced back at him, and their eyes instantly met again. 

He was still watching her. 

Lia closed her hands into fists, then forced herself to breathe. Deeply. Heavily. 

Harry lifted his eyebrows and tilted his chin down. 

It was an expression she’d seen before, and that it was enough to make every single one of her muscles quiver. 

She darted her eyes back to her empty drink and blinked. 

What the hell? 

To have him staring back at her felt even worse than him saying her name or her calling him an asshole. It was like breaking the fourth wall. It was like acknowledging her existence. And Lia didn’t know what to do with that.

She rummaged for something, but it was as if her thoughts weren’t there anymore. As if her brain stopped functioning and she went completely blank.

And just like that, before she could give herself a pep talk and calm herself down, Lia had already pushed her chair away from the table and ran to the door. Stepping outside and away from the bar. 

Curiosity killed the cat.

Or at least that was what one of Lia’s teachers always used to say. And also what crossed her mind on Friday night, when she walked into The Wandering Triplet followed by Jillie and Molly.

“Ohhh, I like this place,” Molly said, coming to a stop right behind the other two. 

“Yeah!” Jillie nodded, then linked her arm with Lia’s. “I can see why you like it here. Feels kinda cozy. Intimate.”

Lia’s mouth twitched with a smile, and she took one hand up to put her hair behind her ear. 

Dr. Reisman was so right about it. 

Going through life without opening up and sharing things wasn’t working for her. Not anymore. And yeah, it sucked that she had needed a push from her therapist and the assignment of a new task to do it, but at least she’d told them about it. 

At least she wasn’t keeping it all to herself anymore. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Lia offered, looking around and taking the place in. 

It didn’t feel too crowded this time, not yet at least. On her left side, most tables were occupied, and an older man was performing on the same tiny stage the two boys were playing the other night—his low, raspy voice blending with the soft chatting and laughing of customers. 

To her right, though, only a few people stood near the counter, giving her the perfect view of the three bartenders working behind it. 

Lia cleared her throat and diverted her eyes back to the stage.

“I guess it’s usually like this,” she added, ignoring the fact that her belly was suddenly turning upside down. “But it also depends on how crowded the other two bars are.”

“Hmm… Well,” Jillie said, turning her head to look at them, “should we get a table, then?”

Lia nodded and stepped forward. 

“Sure—” 

“Wait!” Molly placed her hands on Lia’s hips, forcing her to stay in place. “Let’s get a drink first.”

“A—Already? You sure? Now? Right now?"

“Yes.” Molly smirked. “Right now. C’mon. Wanna see that bartender of yours up close.”

“Oh God…”

Lia chuckled, mostly because she didn’t know what to say. Or do. 

Of course they wanted to see him, though. After all, it was the whole reason why they were there that night. 

At first the excitement and curiosity had happened through texts, when Lia got the courage to tell them about Harry. Their reaction had been instant, and it’d brought so much joy to her body that Lia ended up spending way more time on her phone than she should have. 

Despite letting them know it was only a crush, and that he didn’t really care about her, they both entertained the subject, asking details about the way he looked or how she’d met him. It was easy to get carried away with them, because they didn’t make it seem that deep, treating the topic lightly. Treating it as a joke. 

They also didn’t make her feel guilty or out of her mind for being attracted to him. And when she explained to them how she worried about being inappropriate for fantasizing about him, they both shared their own stories of moments when they’d fancied someone they probably shouldn’t have, and even of things they’d done with people that they probably shouldn’t have. 

It brought some sense of imperfection to her, and of humanity, and it made her breathe better. So before ending the conversation, when they asked to meet him, Lia didn’t want to say no and go back to her lonely and quiet bubble, so she agreed with them. 

And that’s how they ended up there. 

On Friday night. At the bar. 

“Oh, yes! I wanna see him, too!” Jillie let go of Lia’s arm and turned around. “C’mon.”

The idea of her gorgeous, tall, cheerful friend reaching the bar first and alone was enough to get a reaction out of her. 

“Okay, okay!” Lia looked at the floor and closed her hands into fists, then stepped forward and led the way. 

She had no idea what would come out of that night, but she knew it didn’t make sense for her to run away or avoid the situation—not even if it made her stomach swirl and turn. After all, telling her best friends about Harry and The Wandering Triplet had felt like a bold move, but also like a step she needed to take. 

And one she hadn’t regretted so far. 

"Heeyyy!” Rohan’s cheerful voice greeted as soon as Lia reached the counter, and she immediately glanced up. He approached them with a grin and open arms, easily leaving his co-workers behind. “Look who’s here!”

Lia curled her mouth into a closed-lip smile and cleared her throat. 

“H—Hi…”

“You good? It’s nice to see you! You almost never show up on Fridays.”

“Oh…” She chuckled softly, placing her hands inside the pockets of her jacket and shrugging. “I just… Yeah. I’m with my friends tonight, so… I wanted to show them around? I guess…”

“Of course!” Rohan widened his eyes, but his smile never faltered. He shifted his sight to the other girls and stood up straighter, then stretched his arm and offered his hand for them to shake. “How rude of me. Hello there, I’m Rohan.”

“Molly.”

“Jillie, hi.”

“Welcome to The Wandering Triplet, yeah? Hope you enjoy it. Any friend of Lia is more than welcome here.”

Lia shifted on her feet, then caught a glimpse of Harry moving towards the shelves. 

She hadn’t seen him again, but the intensity of his eyes was still engraved inside her mind. It had induced the most vivid dreams for the last couple of nights, and it brought a fluttery to her belly every time she thought about him. 

And she really didn’t know what to think about it, or if she even should think so much about it, but it was nice to see him again. It really was. 

He looked good, as usual, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could see enough to know he was already frowning. Also as usual. 

For a change, though, Harry was wearing a black t-shirt. Black t-shirt, black wide legged pants, and black shoes. 

Black, black, black. 

Lia sighed. She wished he could be the one taking their orders and chatting with them. Him, instead of Rohan. At least once. 

Jillie elbowed her side, and Lia shook her head. Clearing her throat, she looked from Rohan, to Jillie, to Molly. 

They were all watching her.

She forced a chuckle out of her mouth and faced Jillie again. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jillie shrugged. “Rohan was just saying how you’re one of their favorite regulars. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Lia laughed—or tried to laugh—and shook her head again. Vehemently, this time. Almost desperately. “I don’t… No… Yeah, no… I don’t think I am.”

“Of course you are,” Rohan said, drawing all the attention back to him. “I mean, I know you’re my favorite customer, at least.”

Rohan winked, and Lia’s brain froze. Her stomach rolled before heaviness settled in, and her senses seemed to catch every detail around her: her friends coughing next to her, Sage patting Rohan’s shoulder as she walked past him, and Harry snorting and shaking his head behind him. 

Heat creeped up through her neck, face, and ears. And all she wanted was to get away from there. To be swallowed by the ground. To vanish from air. 

“Oookay…” Molly laughed, throwing her arm around Lia’s shoulder and pulling her close. “So what about getting your favorite customer and her friends two mojitos and a beer, huh?”

— — — — — 

“Your little shit!” Jillie hissed, sending her a glare and a laugh from across the table. “You’ve been hiding all this from us? I can’t believe you!”

Next to Lia, Molly laughed and shook her head. “Me neither.”

“And this Rohan guy? Oh my God! Lia! He’s so into you! What the hell?!”

“Yeah. How come you didn’t tell us about him?”

Lia shrugged. 

Rohan had always been nice, and maybe he had said a few things here and there that had made her blush before, but he had never been so straightforward with the flirting. 

Besides, she didn’t care about Rohan, so she never thought about mentioning him. Why would she? 

The girls  talked and laughed about her apparently “secret life”, but there was nothing Lia could think to say to them, so she listened. 

And as she listened, she hid her face behind the rim of the glass in her hands, then took the first sip of her mojito.

Mint and rum went down her throat, and she pursed her lips. 

It was good, but it wasn’t as good as Harry’s.

She twisted her neck and tried to catch a glimpse of the bar, but there were too many people in between. 

Her shoulders dropped, and she sighed. 

Was there even a way for her to interact with him again? 

Should she walk in early on a Wednesday evening again?

What if Sage was there, too?

Would he take the opportunity to ignore her, like he normally did?

Ugh! 

See?!

Harry was the one she wanted to talk about, not Rohan.

Why was Rohan the topic of conversation?

Lia faced the table and cleared her throat. 

Both Jillie and Molly looked at her, and she shifted on her seat. 

“Uh… So… What did you think of Harry?”

Eyeing one girl, then the other, Lia sipped her mojito again. 

Jillie shrugged.

“I was so focused on Rohan that I didn’t even pay attention to Harry, to be honest.” She stretched her neck, lifting her head towards the bar’s direction.

“I think… Damn he’s hot,” Molly admitted. 

Lia’s lips curled up. “Yeah? You think?”

“Oh yes.” Molly nodded. “The tattoos, the clothes, the hair... And not shaving but also not actually having a beard? Pft. The guy definitely knows what he’s doing.”

Lia’s smile turned into a grin. 

She had always been so afraid of her friends (and people in general) judging her, or making her feel embarrassed, that she never allowed herself to just share and enjoy things with others. And in that moment, sitting with them at the bar and gossiping about Harry, as ridiculous as she knew it would sound, she felt less alone.

Damn! She just couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Reisman all about it. She would be happy to know that Lia was finally considering her words to be correct: living outside of her tiny safe bubble could, in fact, be so good for her.

— — — — — 

A couple of hours later, Molly and Jillie hugged Lia goodnight and shared an Uber back to their homes. 

Lia stood near the bouncer and watched the car drive off, meanwhile tried to find her keys inside of her bag. 

She really needed to bring something smaller for those kinds of situations, especially considering she was only across the street from her own apartment. 

Why did she even need that much stuff?

She had never stopped to journal in the middle of a drink. And she had never done her nails outside her home. And she had never needed— 

“So she has friends, after all.”

Lia jerked her head to one side, and then to the other. It took her a moment to see him, standing alone in the darkness of the tiny alley next to the bar.

Harry was leaning on his right shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed on top of his chest and his head slightly tilted to the side. 

He smirked, and Lia’s chest tightened.

“You thought I didn’t have friends?” she blurted out, her tone softer and lower than she had intended to.

Harry shrugged, and his shoulders went up and down theatrically — dragging his crossed arms along with him while his lips curved down. 

Lia blinked and looked at the floor. 

She was convinced Harry didn’t care about her. A fact that implied he didn’t think about her, nor make assumptions about her.

Thinking again, though, she knew that wasn’t the truth. 

Because Harry made assumptions about her. For instance, he constantly assumed she went to the bar to see Rohan. He also tended to scoff and roll his eyes at her, as if she was too predictable. 

He didn’t know her, but he acted as if he did.

But... What kind of person he thought she was, then? What kind of person didn’t have any friends?

Did he actually think that low of her?

She was aware of how hard it was for her to be social, to feel comfortable around people, but she had never thought she could be perceived as someone who wasn’t capable of having any friends.

Did that even make sense?

Why did his comment make her feel so… Sad about herself? 

So... Lonely? 

So insufficient. 

So out of place.

Damn.

What was she even feeling? 

Her chest ached, and her throat felt sore, but she couldn’t point out exactly what any of that meant… How would she be able to control her emotions, if she couldn’t tell what emotions she was dealing with in the first place?

“Oh c’mon…” Harry scoffed, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, Lia could hear his eyes rolling in his voice. “I was just saying. Don’t be a baby about it.”

He sounded annoyed. 

Or maybe disappointed. 

Or maybe bored.

Lia looked up and to the left. She focused on the bouncer sitting on the stool and took a deep breath in. Watching him scroll through his phone without a single care about their interaction. 

Or maybe pretending not to have a single care about it.

Maybe he was internally laughing about the whole thing. Ready to pat Harry’s back and agree with him. Ready to admit he had no idea why Lia kept showing up over and over again. 

Another deep breath in, and Lia looked at the ground, finding her own feet.

Her boots were dirty with beer. She needed to clean them up as soon as she got home. She also needed to wash her hair, because she could definitely smell cigarettes. Were people smoking inside? Was that even allowed?

“See!”

Lia jumped. And looked up again. 

Harry snorted and turned to the side, leaning his back completely against the wall and shoving his hands inside of his pants’ pockets. Shaking his head, he murmured, “I knew talking to you was useless.”

Lia’s heart shrunk. 

Harry looked defeated. And maybe he really was, because apparently he had finally noticed how boring it was to have an actual conversation with her.

God, he made her feel so, so small.

“You—” Lia closed her eyes. She needed to speak, or she would regret it the next morning. She batted her eyes open and took a couple of steps forward, stopping only when she was in front of him. Closing her hands into fists, she breathed in, and then breathed out. “You need to… Stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yes. Stop! Stop acting like you know a thing about me, because you don’t, okay? If you… If you don’t want to know me then… Then fine. Just don’t. But stop… Just stop being such an asshole to me.”

He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms on his chest. 

“Stop calling me an asshole.”

“Then stop being one!”

For a second, it seemed as if Harry’s lips twitched upwards, attempting to smile. 

But then he licked his lips, and shrugged. 

“How am I being an asshole? We don’t even talk.”

“Well… We… You… We clearly don’t, but…” She sighed and looked at the end of the alley, searching for a safe place to put her eyes and crossing her arms under her chest before she poured her honesty into him. “But when we do, you make sure to point out only the things I hate the most about myself, and that sucks.”

There was silence. A lot of silence. And if she hadn’t heard him sigh, or if she couldn’t see him through the corner of her eyes, she would’ve thought he had left.

Breathe in, Lia. 

Breathe out. 

“I know I am awkward, okay? And I know I am not fun to talk to. I know it takes me some time to answer, and I know people don’t want to be friends with me. I know all that. Trust me, I know. I know, and I hate that I am this way. But you… You have no idea how hard I try anyway. How hard I keep trying to step out of my comfort zone and just… Be different. Be better. So there’s no need to make fun of me, okay? Just let me be and I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Lia—”

“Don’t. Please. Just… I already hate myself for telling you all this. God… I—I haven’t told these things to anyone besides my therapist. And caring so much about it is another thing that I hate about myself. I know it’s stupid, I know I am old enough and shouldn’t care. I wish I didn’t but… It’s just… Anyway, I don’t need you being mean or making fun of me about it, okay? Finally talking to someone about this it’s... It was supposed to be good for me. It was supposed to… I don’t know… It was supposed to feel good and not... Not like this.”

“Listen—”

“No. Let’s just… Leave it like this, okay? Forget about it. It’s not like you ever cared about me anyway.”

There was a reason why Lia spent most of the time inside her head: it was better than facing the reality of her life. 

And for the last twelve months or so, her mind had created a very nice and safe bubble for her to distract herself with. A bubble where she lived happily and unbothered. Where she didn’t embarrass herself. And where she didn’t mess things up. 

Her bubble was hers and only hers, but she wasn’t alone in it. Of course she wasn’t. 

Since she’d met him at the bar, and even though he had no idea about it, Harry had been there as well. 

Lia liked to look at him, she liked to wonder about him, and she liked to fantasize about him. Because Harry was hot. And sexy as hell. And because although she wasn’t into the “dark and mysterious” vibe, she couldn’t deny that Harry made her insides come to live.

He really did. 

In her dreams, Lia was sure he was everything she always secretly wanted but never had. Especially in bed.

He looked like the type of man who wasn’t nice, because he didn’t give a damn about being nice. He looked like the type of man who didn’t get attached, who was just after having a good time. Who would sleep with her, send her home, and roll his eyes at her the next time he saw her around.

He looked like the kind of man who could have any woman, at any time, without even having to try.

And Lia had always wondered how it would be like to have sex with someone like that, but she always knew it was a dangerous path to actually walk through. So when he brushed her off, or rolled his eyes at her, or didn’t even acknowledge she was there, she fed her fantasy up. But she wouldn’t be that into him if she didn’t know that’s all it was—a fantasy.

A fantasy that kept her company in her nice and safe bubble. That distracted her. That allowed her to stay by herself without losing her mind. 

And a fantasy that ended up nowhere to be seen, because the bubble in which she had been happily living and nurturing all those dreams about him had burst right in front of her. And even though she’d been stupid in the past, there was absolutely no way she was ever going to allow herself to even think about something happening between them again. Nuh-uh. 

Not at all. 

Not anytime soon. 

Not ever again. 

Only hours had gone by, but Lia was already all over the place. 

She hadn’t slept at all, too busy crying and catching up her breath. 

She didn’t think it was fair that Harry had been the one who she’d opened up to, especially because it didn’t feel like opening up to someone. It felt like begging for him not to be mean at her because she was too insecure about herself. It felt like not being strong enough to just let it go. It felt like not being confident enough to act like a woman next to him. It felt weak. It felt sad. It felt awful.

Lia had never been so vulnerable to someone. Not besides Dr. Reisman, at least. So at that moment, when it finally happened — when she finally let it all out — all she had wanted and needed was a hug. And she couldn’t ask him that. 

Of course she couldn’t.

So she had to go back to her place and go through all of it all by herself. All alone. Just like she didn’t want to be. 

Damn. Her brain hurt from so much thinking. From all the embarrassment, all the judgment, all the regret. 

She was spiraling, all over again. And because of a man, all over again. 

Another man. 

Again. 

No. No, no, no. She couldn’t go through all that again. She really couldn’t. She needed to do something. She needed to handle the situation. She had to stop it before she ended up losing herself again. 

And she was going to do it the only way she knew how—creating a new, nice, and safe bubble for herself. A bubble that could be her only world for a couple of days. 

Or for as long as it took until she felt brave enough to step out of it again.

One day. 

Two days. 

Three.

Four. 

Five. 

Six. 

A week. 

And another one.

“They are all delicious.” Lia crossed her arms on the counter and smiled. “But yeah, Snickers was definitely my favorite one so far.”

“Really?” Cece smiled. The wrinkles around her face doubled, and her hand shook slightly as she handed Lia the card reader. “Thank you, dear. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Hmmm… I don’t think so.” She waited for the confirmation that the payment went through, then added, “But I’ll definitely be here on Friday.”

“Good. I’ll have a slice of your favorite ready for you then. On the house.”

Lia’s smile got wider, and she was filled by this sudden need of giving that sweet lady the biggest and warmest hug. 

She couldn’t believe how long it had taken her to discover CC Tearoom, especially since it was right around the corner from her place. Cece’s hands truly turned ingredients into magic. So far, there hadn’t been a flavor that hadn’t made Lia close her eyes and hum to herself. This time, it was the Roasted Strawberries & Cream Cheesecake that had sent her over the moon, but on Monday it had been the slice of Chocolate-Peanut Butter, and the week before three other different ones.

So yeah, she should’ve been there and incorporated it into her routine a lot earlier.

Coffee and pies were so much better than mojitos, anyway. 

Besides, she obviously felt way more comfortable sitting on the corner of a welcoming and homelike coffee shop than surrounded by loud and drunk people. And the way Cece and the other baristas treated her? Wow. It only highlighted how stupid she had been going to that bar, pinning over a guy that gave her nothing but coldness and rudeness all the time. 

The mere thought of him brought a weird feeling to her belly, and Lia tried her best to push his presence out of her mind. She was getting better at it. Faster. Which was good, because it meant she suddenly wouldn’t even remember about him anymore, right?

She stepped into the summer night breeze and crossed her arms under her chest. Another day had practically gone by. Another Wednesday. Meaning it was almost the end of the week, and then a new one would start. And she would get to repeat everything all over again. 

Wake up, go to work, go home, clean up or go out for a coffee (and a slice of cheesecake), get ready for the next day, and go to bed. From Monday to Monday. With an exception here and there — like grocery shopping and doing laundry on the weekends instead of going to work, and also going downstairs and visiting Mrs. Jones for some knitting or a few rounds of card games. 

The latest activity had happened for the first time only last Saturday afternoon, but Lia was keen on the idea of making it a habit. Mrs. and Ms. Jones had been living on the second floor of her building for years. They were known by most neighbors as the couple who was always bickering, but could never stay away from each other. And despite Ms. Jones’ explicit complaints about everything and everyone, everybody seemed to like them a lot—probably because no-one took his grumpiness very seriously. 

She turned around the corner and looked down at her feet. Her hair blew across her eyes, blocking her view of the black sneakers her parents had given her last Christmas. They were kind of loose on her feet, but at least she wasn’t wearing those white shoes anymore. Or any other color, for that matter. At least she’d gone back to her black neutral low-key outfits. 

Taking one hand up, she pulled her hair over her shoulders, then tucked some strands behind her ear. 

She focused on the way her legs carried her back to her building, tracing the well-known path her steps absently followed everyday. 

There was nothing like a safe, quiet, and laid-back routine, was it?

No, there wasn’t.

It was all she needed. 

All she had wanted.

To be okay.

And she had finally achieved it, hadn’t she?

“Lia!”

Out of nowhere, the voice hit her like thunder. Her body staggered for a moment, and the sound lingered inside her. 

It was Harry, wasn’t it? 

Calling her name?

Her heart raced, and a flush of adrenaline tingled through her body. 

No. Of course not. 

How could it be? 

Why would it be?

“Lia, hey!”

Shit. 

Another thunder, and another shock to speed up her heart. Except this time she didn’t stop moving — she walked even faster. 

She was afraid to be right, she didn’t want to be right, but deep down she had no doubts. She knew it was him. 

She also hoped it would be.

“Wait!”

He sounded louder, and Lia knew that when thunder got louder, it meant lighting was getting closer. 

Her heart pounded inside of her chest, and a low buzz rang in her ears.

She closed her hand into a fist, tightening her fingers around her keys. Maybe she could get away with pretending she didn’t hear him. Maybe, if she just walked fast enough, she would reach the door and get inside before he called again. Maybe she could run up the front steps. There were only six of them... Or were they seven? It didn’t matter. Once she got inside her building, she would be fine. 

“Lia, please! Hey!”

Just get the key and open the door, Lia. C’mon… C’mon! That’s it! Now, just get inside. Go, go, go!

With shaking hands, she pushed the front door of her building and took a step inside. 

“Lia, c’mon! Just, please—Hey, stop!”

Harry’s hand banged against the door, and his heavy breathing echoed between the four walls of the tiny lobby.

Lia turned on her feet with a gasp, finding Harry with his mouth open and one arm stretched out, leaning his weight on the still open door while catching his breath.

Not fast enough, Lia. Not fast enough. 

“I just—Fucking hell…” Harry breathed out, chest going up and down densely. He looked down and shook his head, then faced her again. “We need… We need to talk."

Lia crossed her arms and stepped backwards. She pulled her eyebrows together as she looked at him and took her very own version of shaky breaths. 

Exact eighteen days had gone by since she’d last seen him. She knew it, because she’d been counting them — as embarrassing and ridiculous as it sounded. 

She had been counting them because she was determined to make the number get higher and higher. 

So, so determined. So careful, and so mindful of everything. 

That’s why she walked her own street with her head down — to avoid even getting a glimpse of him walking in or out of the bar. She lived as if the place didn’t exist anymore. As if she’d never stepped in there. As if she didn’t even care about what the place could be past the door. 

She hadn’t counted on the possibility of Harry running after her, though. 

After all, why would he? 

Why did he? 

He was there, flesh and bone, in the lobby of her building. Trying to talk to her. To her.

And just like any other time before, Harry looked just… Stunning. 

Absolutely and unfairly stunning. 

Wearing all black, just like the last time she’d seen him. Just like when she’d snapped at him and made a fool of herself. When he’d made her realize she needed to take a step back from him.

A tingle spread on her stomach. 

She swallowed down, then tightened the grip of her crossed arms. 

Under the black fabric of her plain t-shirt, Harry’s body seemed thick with muscle. His arms looked too big for those short sleeves, something she’d already noticed and thought about before. Something she usually enjoyed paying attention to. 

Breathe in, breathe out, Lia. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

Her stomach tingled again, except this time it heated all over her body.

His strong, imposing figure had always sparked inside her a flush of craving for him. It had been the reason for so many of her not-so-innocent dreams, and the encouragement for so many of her hidden fantasies. She couldn’t recall a time in her life when she had desired a man like that, and it saddened her to think there was nothing she could do about it. 

“Please?” Harry insisted, sliding his hand down through the thick wood, but still holding the door open. 

Great. She had forgotten to speak. Again.

Lia blinked. And swallowed. “W–why?”

Her voice was shaking just as much as her hands had been seconds before, but she couldn’t allow herself to think too much about that. She didn’t even care, to be honest. All she wanted to know and all she cared about was why. 

Why was Harry there? 

Why did Harry want to talk to her? 

Why couldn’t she just forget about it? 

Why couldn’t she just move on? 

Why couldn’t she just be different? 

Why couldn’t her life be different? 

Why couldn’t things be different? 

Why couldn’t they be easier?

Why?

Why?! 

Why?!

“Because you deserve an apology.”

Lia blinked again. Once, and then a couple more times. 

His words not only didn’t answer most of her questions, but also created a bunch of new ones. 

What was he even doing? 

Was he being serious? 

Or was it all just a joke to him?

“I just—I don’t—” She drew her eyebrows closer and closer, until her forehead creased and wrinkled.

"Look,” Harry said, pausing only to take a deep breath in and pull his hair back. “I know I don’t deserve it, and I get that you don’t want to listen… But I just need a minute, that’s all. Just give me a minute and I’ll be out of your way. I promise. Please.”

Lia bit the insides of her bottom lip. 

Generally speaking, Lia didn’t think she would’ve been able to say no to him, because she honestly didn’t want to say no to him. Still, any doubts that could’ve dared to cross her mind and make her second guess her decision disappeared as she looked at him—as she truly looked at him.

Because everything about Harry looked just the same as always, but somehow he looked completely different from any other time before.

Maybe it was because she’d never seen him in such a casual context—after all, they had never met or talked to each other in any circumstance that didn’t involve the bar. 

Shit. 

Would she even be able to hold a real conversation with him? 

A sigh left her mouth, and Lia dropped her shoulders.

It wasn’t even about that, was it? That is, what felt different. It wasn’t about the context or the place. Right? It was something else… Something about the way he looked at her, perhaps… Something about the way he seemed to carry softness and worry in his stare. Two things she hadn’t seen on him before. Not aiming towards her, at least.  

“Okay.” Her voice was soft, and it took her by surprise — she definitely hadn’t planned on speaking up.  

And apparently it took Harry by surprise, too, because he widened his eyes and asked, “Okay?” 

Lia swallowed, and nodded once. 

“Really?” he insisted. 

“Yes… Okay.”

“Ok,” he repeated, mimicking her previous nod. He stared inside her eyes for a moment, then glanced down to the floor. It was hard to tell what was crossing his mind as he silently shuffled on his feet, or when he took his free hand up and pulled his hair back. “Right. Yeah, ok. Let’s talk, then.”

Lia pressed her lips together and waited for him to speak up first, mostly because she couldn’t think of one single thing to say to him. 

Harry, on the other hand, stood there with furrowed brows and puzzled eyes, as if he was going through his own personal battle inside his own mind. 

Until, eventually, he shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Sorry.” He stepped forward, and as he walked inside, he let the door go and looked over his shoulder, watching until it fully closed behind him. 

There was a pause, in which he took the time to face her again and shove his hands inside of his pockets. 

And then, serious and determined, Harry spoke again. “To be completely honest, I didn’t think this through. I’ve just been thinking a lot about what happened, so I wanted to apologize to you. Because I’m really sorry for the other night. And also… Well, for everything else.”

“You don’t have to,” Lia said, and she hated how she sounded way more fragile and unsure than she wanted to. “Apologize, I mean. It’s fine.”

Harry squinted, and his forehead wrinkled. 

“Of course I do. Everything you said the other night was—”

“Please.” She shook her head and looked away from him, tightening her arms around herself. “I—I don’t…”

Her mouth was incredibly dry, and there was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that was getting hard to ignore. It was heavy, and it hurt. 

She closed her hands into fists, then dug her nails into her palms to prevent herself from getting lost inside her mind. She focused on the mailboxes on the wall to her left, looking for her name that had been printed and attached under the number of her apartment so many months ago. 

“I don’t want to talk about what I said. Like, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Harry sighed. 

“Lia…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just forget about everything.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

The front door opened, and Lia turned her head to the new movement. 

“I said I don’t care,” Mr. Jones’ said, his unmistakable voice reaching her ears before she could even see him. He walked in with a frown, but stopped to hold the door open for his wife. “Told you I don’t like the boy.”

Harry looked at his feet and took a step to the side, getting away from the entrance.

“You never like them, Walter,” Mrs. Jones replied with her sweet and shaky voice, walking slowly right behind him. “You’re being worse than—Oh.”

As soon as the woman met Lia’s eyes, she curled her lips into a sweet, wrinkled and excited smile. 

“Good night, sweetheart! Didn’t see you there!”

“How?” the man muttered, closing the door while his wife walked a few more tiny steps forward. “They’re standing right in the way!”

Mrs. Jones kept smiling and rolled her eyes, waving her quivering hand in the air. 

“Forgive my husband. He finds pleasure in being rude. And grumpy."

Lia forced a polite chuckle out of her mouth, aware that the few hours she’d spent with them over the weekend had been enough to reveal how behind the grumpiness there was a very funny and very caring man. 

“‘M just telling the truth,” Mr. Jones muttered again. “Are they or are they not in the way?”

“Of course they aren’t, Walter.” Mrs. Jones dragged her feet through the lobby, right towards Lia and Harry’s direction. “There’s more than enough space for all of us to stand here.”

“But I don’t want to stand here, Mora. I want to go upstairs.”

“You can go ahead if you want. I still need to check the mail.”

Lia stepped backwards, giving the elder lady more room to cross between them and get to the mailboxes. 

Mr. Jones grunted at the same time Harry sighed, and Lia pressed her lips together to hold herself back from laughing—or even smiling. 

“I finished the scarf we started the other day,” Mrs. Jones said. “You should drop by for some coffee and see the result.”

Lia nodded. “Of course. This weekend, maybe?”

��Sounds good, dear. Do you like apple pie?” 

“Sure.”

“I’ll make some, then.”

Mrs. Jones was sweet, she truly was. But as much as Lia didn’t want to admit, they were the worst neighbors that could’ve shown up at the lobby and interrupted them. Because she knew how unhurriedly they lived their lives, and she knew how long it could take them to finally go upstairs. 

Besides, she didn’t think they were even aware they had interrupted something, so she also didn’t think they were aware that their presence was holding a conversation back. 

Mrs. Jones hummed to herself while finally going through the same mailbox she opened everyday, and Harry cleared his throat. 

When Lia looked at him, she found his eyes already watching her. He stood with his hands still inside of his pockets, but the previous softness on his face had been replaced by a clenched jaw and lips pressed together into a line. 

“I think I should go back,” he said.

“Oh. O-okay.”

“Yeah. This isn’t—” 

“Walter, look!” Mrs. Jones blurted out. “We got another grocery coupon!”

Harry shut his mouth, rolled his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Those sales are garbage,” Mr. Jones mumbled, standing near the stairs. 

“Of course they aren’t,” the woman scoffed. “We get some very nice meals out of them.”

She opened the magazine, eying the content on the first two pages. 

“Let’s see what we find today,” she added. “Maybe they’ve got some apples. For my apple pie.”

“Ugh. I wanna go upstairs, Mora…”

Harry rolled his shoulders and faced Lia again, instantly locking his green eyes with hers. 

He looked frustrated, or maybe annoyed, and somehow she understood the feeling. Because she was frustrated, too—she didn’t want Harry to leave yet, and she more than definitely didn’t want to miss the opportunity to spend a few more minutes with him, or to listen to what else he could have to say. 

So whilst he had been interrupted, she had been denied the opportunity to be around him. And all she could think about was how much she wanted for him to stay around. How much she wanted to keep listening to him, and how much she wanted for him to keep talking to her.  

Lia’s fingers twitched, and her heartbeat sped up. 

She loosened up the grip of her fists, opening and closing her hands a few times. Then, still stuck inside of his green eyes, she took a deep breath in through her nose, licked her lips and voiced quietly, “We can… I mean… Do you want to go upstairs? We can talk there… Y’know, if you want to.”

Harry widened his eyes. 

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah. But it’s fine if you have to go. I just… I mean…” 

“Upstairs sounds great.” He nodded. “Thank you.”

Lia nodded, too. 

She didn’t give herself time to think about what her words could imply. 

She couldn’t allow herself to think about what Harry being inside her apartment would mean, because if she did, she would send him away. 

And after everything she’d been through, there was absolutely no way Lia would ever forgive herself if she just sent him away.

— — — — — 

The walk upstairs was awfully silent, but Lia didn’t know what she could say to him. She wasn’t good at small talk, and she didn’t want to be the one to bring up their previous conversation. So she distracted herself by fidgeting with her keys, cursing when she dropped them, and blushing when Harry picked them up for her. 

“Shit.” 

“Here.” 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Those were the only words they spoke, then everything went silent again. 

Breathless and with a pounding heart, Lia couldn’t tell if it was from walking too many flights of stairs or from the fact that she was about to take Harry inside of her apartment. 

The moment she didn’t give herself to think before inviting him, hit her between the first and second floor, and it was only downhill from then on.

What was wrong with her?

What was she even thinking?! 

Well, actually she wasn’t thinking. Of course. That had been the whole point, right? She didn’t think, because if she did, she wouldn’t have invited him. She knew she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t! Because she shouldn’t have!

How could she be so freaking stupid? 

It’s just… She didn’t even know him! And in the few and short interactions they’d shared in the past several months, he had been nothing but rude and unfairly mean to her. 

So, yeah, that was such, such a terrible idea!

She’d just spent days—weeks—deeply regretting sharing her insecurities with him. Pondering about how it was time to finally move on and forget about that crush. And yet there she was again: about to let Harry burst another one of her tiny bubbles. About to open up the front door of her tiny apartment and let him in; then turn on the lights and allow him to see the insides of her safest and most personal space.

So, so stupid!

Lia reached the landing before the last set of steps and exhaled slowly, letting the air out of her mouth as if she could also release all the tension out of her body. 

They were almost there. 

It was getting real. It was about to happen. 

And she’d have to deal with the situation. 

There was no going back anymore. 

Or, well… 

Maybe there was, but… 

Did she really want to go back?

No. Of course she didn’t. 

She lifted her arm and pointed her keys ahead, aiming at the second door. 

“We’re—” Her voice faltered, and heat spread through her cheeks. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “We’re here.” 

She walked forward, then focused on putting the key in the lock without trembling. Once she succeeded, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, then reached for the switch and turned the light on. 

“Sorry for the mess,” she said, hanging her keys on the wall. 

Lia wasn’t a messy person, but she hadn’t bothered with cleaning up her apartment in the last two days. 

In her defense, though, she wasn’t expecting any guests. Wednesday or not, people never showed up at her place out of nowhere. She didn’t invite anyone she didn’t feel comfortable with, and those who visited knew her well enough to always give her a heads up.

Two things Harry hadn’t done. 

He seemed an exception to absolutely everything in her life so far. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. He kept his distance, but still stood close enough for her to feel his presence behind her. “You should see my place.”

There was a playful scoff at the end of his sentence, and Lia knew he was only being polite by insinuating how messier his own place was, but still, the prospect of visiting Harry’s home made her insides twinkle.

She had absolutely no idea where he lived, or who he lived with—was it a house? An apartment? Did he live with his family? Did he have any roommates? Did he live by himself? Did he have any pets? 

Did he have a girlfriend?

Harry had never given Lia the chance for her to ask anything about his life. He had never given her the chance to get to know him. 

If he had, Lia liked to believe she would’ve been brave enough to ask him everything she always wanted to know about him—about his family, his hobbies, his childhood, and even about his dreams. 

He had an accent, so was she correct by assuming he was British? Was his family from there, too? Why did he leave the UK? Did he have any siblings, or was he an only child? Did he see them often? If not, did he miss them?

“It’s really nice here,” Harry said. 

“Um… Yeah.” Lia shrugged. “It’s a good place to live, I guess.”

Up on the fourth floor, her rented apartment wasn’t big, nor fancy. To be honest, she’d always found everything about the place normal and simple, which felt more than enough for her. The space was limited, but it had never felt cramped. A living room and an open-concept kitchen, with only a counter setting the limits between them, and then a tiny hallway that led to the bedroom and the bathroom. 

And that was it. That was all she had to offer.

“You should… I mean,” Lia said, walking further into the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, and all that…”

She walked past the coffee table and the messy remains of her laziness from the night before. After the dark gray counter, she rubbed both hands against her jeans, then turned another light on. Just at the same time, the front door clicked, and she jumped around.

Harry stood awkwardly by the dark wood, his hands hidden inside of his pockets, just like before.

“Sorry.” She leaned her side against the end of the counter. “I’m not… I’m not used to having people over, so… I’m not good at this.”

Harry shrugged, curling his lips up just slightly. “I think you’re doing great.”

Lia snorted and looked down at her feet, then crossed her arms under her chest. “Sure.”

“Look, about the—”

“Who’s at the bar?” She blurted out. “Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Uh, yeah… I should, but Sagey is there. She’s covering for me.”

Lia nodded.

“Right.”

Sagey.

The way the nickname for his coworker rolled so easily out of his tongue made her want to crawl into his arms. It screamed affection, and trust, and for a moment she envied the fact that someone could so easily be part of his life.

She closed her eyes for a second, then looked over her shoulder and back to the kitchen.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. Actually—”

“Tea?” 

“I—”

“You’re British, right?” She faced him again. “Do you really drink tea or is that just a myth?”

Harry tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips, watching her. And then, after a moment, he just dropped his head down and chuckled. 

The joyful, beautiful, and yet discreet sound that came out of his mouth was unexpected, and it once again made Lia’s heartbeat get faster and louder. 

“I am British, yeah,” Harry finally said, then looked up at her. The remains of a smile still dancing through his lips. “But I’m good, thank you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Maybe some other time, though?”

The chances of her and Harry ever meeting at her apartment again didn’t seem likely, let alone for them to have a coffee or tea together. But she wouldn’t tell him that. 

Instead, she nodded, and looked down at her feet. “Sure. Another time.”

“Good. Now, do you have any other questions, drinks to offer, or…”

Lia widened her eyes and darted her sight back to him.

She had been rambling a lot, hadn’t she? Not letting him talk and interrupting with awkward and stupid questions and… Shit.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head and straightening up her body. That had been so rude of her! “Really, I… I didn’t mean to keep interrupting you. Sorry.”

“C’mon, it’s fine,” Harry said, taking a step forward and closer to the couch. “I’m just teasing you.”

“It’s just... I’m—I’m nervous, I think? I mean, usually when I’m nervous I just shut up? So I don’t… I don’t really know why I can’t stop talking right now,  but... Maybe... I don’t know. I guess… I guess this is a different kind of ’nervous’? I mean… I don’t… Yeah. I—I don’t know. Sorry. Shit. I’ll just shut up now. Sorry.”

She chuckled, but quickly regretted it, letting the sound fade in the silent air around them. It felt awkward, as if she was forcing the fun out of her body. And maybe she truly was, because she didn’t feel like laughing—she just thought it would be polite to do so. That it would be better if she looked happy, instead of insecure. Or nervous. Or sad. 

“Lia, I don’t…” Harry looked down, took a deep breath in, and shook his head. When he met her eyes again, his tone—along with his actions—was clearly softer, careful. Almost afraid. “Look, I’m the only one who should be apologizing here. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? And I am sorry Lia, I really am. Those things you said the other night were—"

“It’s okay.” Lia shook her head and stepped towards the couch. “Like I said, I really don’t want to talk about any of the things I said.”

She grabbed the blanket she’d left there the night before, wrapping it as best as she could and holding it onto her chest. 

“But I—”

“Those were very personal things for me to share okay? And I just— Please… I mean… I can’t—I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Ok. Yes. Of course. I shouldn’t… I don’t want to force you to talk about it. I just need to make sure you know how sorry I am for making you feel that way. Because I really am.”

Shit. 

She turned around, dropping the cozy and warm fabric on the armchair. 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, c’mon. I was out of line and shouldn’t have treated you like that.” 

Lia sighed. 

What did he want her to say? 

Yes, he’d hurt her, but she was trying to move on. So relieving the whole situation wouldn’t help her. 

Besides, it wasn’t Harry’s fault if she didn’t know how to talk or interact with people. 

“Lia…” he called. 

She dropped her arms to her sides, then turned to face him once again. 

She really didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Can you please let it go? It’s just… I shouldn’t have said anything. And I’m really embarrassed about the whole thing.”

He hid his hands inside his pockets and shrugged.

“I’m embarrassed, too. Acted like a proper… What was it? Oh right, like an asshole.” 

Lia’s mouth curled up into a smile, and she bit her bottom lip to hold it back.

Despite the embarrassment, a part of her felt proud of herself for calling him out that night. Both nights. Standing up to people was really hard for her. She almost never cursed out loud, nor disrespected people in any way, so calling Harry an asshole—more than once—had felt like crossing a bridge.

Still, it didn’t mean she thought it was a nice thing to do. Or that he couldn’t have found it offensive.

“Sorry… For calling you an asshole.”

Harry curled one side of his mouth up. “I totally deserved it.”

There was a playful tone in his voice, but the way he was suddenly looking at her made it impossible for Lia to react.

Dark green irises fixed on her, they drifted all over her face. 

Even standing on opposite sides of the living room, Harry focused on her in a way he hadn’t focused before. Giving her all of his attention. As if he was studying her every detail. Or as if he had never seen her before. Or as if he was mapping every left and right to remember a path he’d trail later in time. 

To be honest, it would be difficult for Lia to explain, but something about his stare made her stomach flutter. It caused a flush of shyness to spread from her shoulders to her neck, and all over her face. 

At the same time, though, his gaze comforted her. It made her feel like he was trying his best to be gentle to her. It made her feel like he was being honest with her. Like he somehow cared for her.

“Shit,” Harry murmured, breaking the moment and looking down to his pants. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, staring at the screen as it flashed between his fingers. “It’s Sagey.”

Oh. 

He sighed, yet didn’t make any effort to act on it. 

“I should go back.” 

Lia cleared her throat, then crossed her arms under her chest. 

“Right. Of course.”

“I wouldn’t, but…”

“You have to work.”

“Yeah.”

Time froze as they silently looked at each other. 

It felt exciting, even though at moments it took everything inside her not to run away from the intensity of his gaze. 

“Sagey is still getting used to everything,” he suddenly added. “And I know she can handle it, but I don’t wanna leave her by herself for too long. Can be kind of hectic sometimes.” 

Lia shrugged, pulling her lips into the most genuine smile she could find inside her. “You don’t need to explain yourself.” 

“I know, yeah. I just…”

Harry looked down, and Lia tilted her head to the side.

What, Harry? 

You just... What?!

He sighed.

“You believe I’m sorry, right?”

Lia didn’t have to force a smile after his words—it came out naturally as she nodded.

“I do, yes.”

“Ok. Good.” He looked over his shoulder, towards the door. “I’ll get going, then.”

“Right. Let me open the door for you.” Lia walked around the coffee table, as fast and as far away from him as she could.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind the fact that she wasn’t going to walk him downstairs—she didn’t think she would be able to handle any more awkward conversations with him.

Harry followed her lead, taking a few steps closer to the door before he cleared his throat. 

“You should come by tonight… If you’re free, of course.”

As she opened the door, Lia furrowed her brows. She stepped aside, then faced him again. 

Harry chuckled, shrugging lightly and walking outside. 

“To the bar, I mean. Feel like I owe you a drink.” 

Oh… 

Lia rested her temple against the frame, half-smiling at him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yeah, I do. For being rude to you.”

“Harry, stop. I—”

“Look,” he said, raising both hands in the air and showing his palms to her, “all I’m offering you is a free drink. That’s all, ok? No pressure.”

There was no way she was going to walk into the bar that night, or any other any time soon. But he didn’t need to know that, so Lia bit back a smile, and nodded.

“Okay. Sure. Thank you, then.”

“Ok.” Harry smiled. “Great. Then… I guess I’ll… Well…” 

“Yes?”

“Bye, Lia.”

“Bye, Harry.”

“Have a good night.”

Lia chuckled. “Thanks. You too.” 

“See you soon.”

“See you.” 

“Bye.”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

“Actually…” 

He ran back up, and Lia laughed.

“Oh my God.”

“Sorry.” He smiled. “I was just wondering, and you can say no if you want, of course, but… Would it be okay for me to ask your phone number?”

(TWO)

[lieslab]

Are you with me?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After struggling with being underweight, you binge out of desperation to gain weight and that's when your boyfriend finds you.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.6K

Trigger warning: Insecurities, implied underweight reader, mentions of weight, weight loss, binging, calorie counting, and a mention of nausea.

A/N: I believe that this is the final request I had. I'm so sorry for making you wait forever, life has been hard and this topic is a bit too real and relatable. Please know that your weight doesn't define you. Whether you are thirty pounds, three hundred, or three-thousand, you still deserve love and respect. You are allowed to love yourself no matter what you look like.

Society can be really fucking shitty and harsh. Don't let it tear you down. This is your life and maybe we do only get one. Eat the slice of cake on your birthday. Indulge in your favorite coffee. Weight can fluctuate and be lost or gained, but good memories last a life time. Don't let yourself miss out on experiencing them because you think your weight and the way you look is holding you back. It's easier said than done, but it's entirely possible <3

_ _ _

The brain is a chamber and each thought is a bullet. A complex system full of neural pathways that define who you are. The brain controls your entire being. Your personality, your motor skills, the cognitive ability to retain information, and pull it out later. 

Beneath the skin, we’re all just bones. Chipped and withered skeletons that will one day disintegrate into nothingness. They say life is a blessing. We should cherish it to the best of our ability. We only get one life, supposedly. If that’s true, then why is it so hard? 

Bodies. Bodies. Bodies. Bodies. Thick and thin. Taut skin stretched over hollowed cheekbones. Round cheeks full of facial fat. Sharpened and softened jawlines. No matter what yours looks like, you only get one. 

A random genetic lottery thanks to your parents. You might hate yourself or you might love yourself. No matter which one wins, there always seems to be hiccups. Those times of turmoil where you just can’t seem to go on another day because you are trapped inside your body. The machine that causes you to breathe, it feels like a burden to some. 

You cannot control how the outside world perceives you. You cannot make everyone like yourself. Chasing idolization and devotion is a great bomb of self-destruction. Feelings can be fatal and if you’re not careful, they will be. Drowning in insecurities and letting them weigh you down while the days pass you by isn’t a good way to live. 

Yet…you just couldn’t help it. The way you looked was just overwhelming. You were a mess. Physically, nobody could see it. Mentally, you were overwhelmed and falling apart. Unraveling at the seams and spiraling out of control. 

The whispers of your insecurities had turned into a sympathy of screams. Scorching hot tears streamed down your cheeks in the kitchen. Your weight has always been an issue. People don’t second guess the things they say at times. 

“Gosh, you’re so skinny, you need to put some meat on your bones.” 

“Is that really all you’re going to eat?” 

“One blow from the wind and you’re going to fall over at this rate.” 

Some people are blessed with rapid metabolisms and some are cursed. No matter how much you consume, your body works it off. Over and over and over and over and over. Just when you think you’ve gained a pound, the scale says you’re down another half of a pound. 

What does your boyfriend think about it? He always says you look wonderful, but does he really mean it? What if he’s lying? Members of your family have stated that you look like you’re on your deathbed. 

What if you’re not good enough? What if this body isn’t great? What if nothing changes? What if you’re cursed to be this weight forever? What if? What if? What if? 

It was a spur of the moment decision. Ever since you lost another two pounds within the last week, something inside of you seemed to snap. That’s when you found yourself tearing through kitchen cabinets. 

Thoughts were swirling as you ripped open the package of oreo cookies you bought. It was one and then it was two and you blinked and half the row was gone. Crumbs caked your lips and all you could do was wipe them along your sweater sleeve. 

As much as you were spiraling, you were desperate to gain control. Surely, if you ate enough, you could put on a pound or two, right? Right? You had to. 

Crinkling filled the air as you opened a bag of brand new chips. The kind that were too salty and you knew they weren’t healthy, but you did it anyway. Life felt better with the occasional unhealthy snack. People weren’t perfect and neither were you. 

Staring at the back of the calorie contents, you lost track of how many chips you placed in your mouth. People didn’t seem to binge on the fruits and vegetables. 

It was the sugary sweetened foods that stuck to your sides. The salty chips and pretzels. The kind of food that was full of empty calories, but you didn’t care. You were desperate to gain a pound. 

People don’t understand what it’s like until they’re there. You will never understand what it’s like to be skin and bones until it’s all that you are. You will never understand what it’s like to carry around a pudgy stomach that bounces with every step until you are there. 

Weight fluctuates and bodies are different. We only get one, but it’s so easy to abuse it. To never eat enough. To over consume and eat too much. You didn’t think you were doing anything wrong with your body. 

You ate your food and that was that. It wasn’t a ton of food, but it wasn’t like you were starving yourself either. Yet, at the exact same time, your body seemed to stay thin. 

The more you spiraled, the more you lost track. You didn’t remember what you put in your mouth. Everything tasted like defeat, even the oreos. 

It kept going and going. Your stomach began to ache with the amount of food you consumed, but you couldn’t stop. It was overwhelming and all too much. Everything hurt and you just wanted to break down and sob. 

When you caught the reflection of yourself in the microwave, that’s exactly what you did. The lump in your throat pulsed and the tears welled up again. The box of crackers in your hand dropped to the floor and you grabbed the counter top for support. 

Your body caved and slumped over the cold marble top. With a forehead pressed into the marble, you cried. You cried because it wasn’t fair. You cried because you hated what you were doing to your body. You cried because you were worried about how you were perceived. You cried because everything was overwhelming and too much. You hated yourself and it hurt like hell. 

Piercing sobs racked the empty kitchen and bounced off the walls. They reverberated back to you and you were left alone with the heart-shattering reality of what you were doing. You ate so much, you were nauseous. 

Your stomach twisted and churned. A fresh layer of saliva coated your tongue. The queasy feeling caused you to squeeze your eyes shut. All you could do was just cry harder. 

Your sobs were the first thing that Chan heard when he unlocked and pushed the door open. Fear struck his heart and he ripped off his bag. Not caring that his laptop was in it, it dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. 

He rushed into the kitchen and found you slung over the counter. “Baby? Baby?” His hand went to your back and he tugged you into his arms. 

The warmth of his chest made you cry harder. You hated that this was who you were. Why couldn’t you have another body? Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t it just be different? 

“What’s wrong?” His eyes scanned your face. “Why are you crying? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” His hands gently cupped your cheeks. He positioned your face up towards him. “Please talk to me.” 

“I-I hate myself,” you uttered hoarsely with a hiccup. “I’m not good enough. I can’t gain weight and I’m a walking skeleton and I-” 

His eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”  A reassuring thumb ran over your cheek. 

“My body isn’t good enough. Not for you. Not for me. Not for anyone.” 

Knowing that you thought so negatively of yourself, it stung. It shoved an arrow through his heart and he shook his head. “Listen to me, you’re perfect the way you are. Just because y-” 

“You don’t get it!” You snapped angrily. Your hands shoved at his shoulders and he stumbled back in shock. “You don’t get it because you’re perfect! You can gain weight and you can lose weight. You can do whatever you want and I-” Your voice cracked and cut off. 

He didn’t utter a word. He knew you were struggling, so he just opened his arms. With a quivering bottom lip, you let yourself fall forward. Sturdy arms grabbed you and he pressed your head against his chest. 

The steady lull of his heart made you burst into tears. A weak and hoarse apology fell from your lips. All he could do was quietly shush you as he rubbed your back. 

“I know that it’s hard. I know what it’s like to struggle with your self image. Maybe I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’m right here and I love you. Please don’t push me away just because you’re struggling. I might not understand, but we can figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere and you know that.” 

That last reassurance was the final straw. Your knees buckled and your fingers dug into his cotton shirt. Down the both of you went and you landed on his lap. 

He pressed you against him as tight as he dared. With your eyes shut and your forehead pressed into the nape of his neck. He soothed you softly while rubbing your back. 

Even if he didn’t understand exactly, he’d wait here for as long as he had to. He’d be here until the kitchen was pulled into darkness and the sun went down outside. He didn’t care if he had to be here all night. 

He’d do whatever it took to remind you that no matter how you saw yourself, you weren’t entirely alone.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[toiletclown]

breathless.

spencer agnew x gn!reader

mostly fluff, a little angst.

part one of four or five, depending how much more i add.

summary: you've had feelings for your best friend, spencer, almost as long as you have known him. it isn't getting any easier, and you need to tell him soon, whether he feels the same or not. your friends are pushing you, the fans already ship you, and after courtney and shayne's success, you just couldn’t bare to keep lying anymore. to yourself, or to him.

word count: 2028 for part one.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It’s been two years since you graduated from Smosh crew member to Smosh cast member. You weren’t the first, and are unlikely to be the last, but it’s still a bit nerve-wracking. You were moved to cast not long after Spencer made his switch to cast, but that was exactly your problem, wasn’t it? When you were both on crew, it was easier. Small smiles, hidden glances, a blush forming under your mask. Once or twice, Brennan had swiveled his camera to the crew to get their reactions and you couldn’t duck fast enough to dodge the shot. 

You both shared moments without fear of judgment, knowing everyone at Smosh knew how close you were. Some more than others. But once you were both on camera more often, those moments dwindled to near nothingness. You couldn’t make eyes at him, he couldn’t flirt with you. Plenty of the cast flirted with each other on and off camera, of course, but it was different somehow. The office flirting became private hangout flirting, which then became no flirting at all. 

He didn’t get jealous anymore when Amanda or Angela flirted with you, and you did your best not to get jealous when he flirted with Tommy or Shayne. It was like your friendship was entirely platonic again. And while that was all it had ever been – platonic – it hurt a little. It was like something happened overnight, and the flirting wasn’t cool anymore.

The last time something happened before your promotion to cast, Spencer, Angela, and Chanse were doing Who Meme’d It with Shayne, and someone had sent in a meme about you always looking at Spencer. As soon as it popped up, everyone was laughing, and Brennan promptly turned his camera to get your face. You were smart enough to expect it, and you managed to push out a laugh and shrug to the camera. All in good fun, it seemed. But really, it was a little bit upsetting to realize you were so obvious about your affection for Spencer. You thought that you were fairly secretive and weren’t too over the top, but apparently not so much.

“Okay, ‘Y/N pretending they weren’t just staring at Spencer’! Spencer, any thoughts?” Shayne said through giggles. 

Spencer made eye contact with you, and you did your best to hold it. “Gotta be honest, Shayne, I wasn’t even aware they stared at me. Guess they’re sneakier than I thought!” Everyone was laughing again, and you joined in. Instead of making a joke about him staring at you, or a joke about you two flirting in your pod, he went with a PR answer. You could barely admit to yourself how bad it had stung. And sure, most people got roasted in Who Meme’d It, especially with the lack of funeral roasts, but it didn’t really feel good to have your private crush on Spencer blasted to not only cast and crew, but whoever ends up watching this video. And his comment was making it seem more one-sided than you liked.

After the laughter settled down, Shayne got back to hosting. “Alright, who meme’d it! Was it Erin Dougal? Courtney? Or Y/N themselves?” You made a silly face when Brennan panned to you, channeling your best mad scientist look. Your face dropped immediately after. No one saw it.

The cast members debated for a second before writing down their answers. It was Courtney across the board. “Alright, so we all think Courtney made this meme. Angela, what makes you think it was Courtney?” 

“Shayne, that’s a great question, thank you so much for being here with me today. I said Court because I have seen them having little whisper sessions with Y/N and I simply don’t trust like that!” Angela laughed, a bright smile on her face. She winked at you once the camera had moved away from her face. She was actually your go-to confidant, and you were sure she knew that. She was your best friend, behind Spencer, after all.

After a dramatic pause, it was revealed that Erin Dougal was the one who made the meme. You could have called that from a mile away, but that was because Erin was constantly telling you to ask Spencer out. You shot her down every time, knowing it was safer and easier to suffer in silence with your feelings rather than to possibly fuck everything up with your best friend. Besides, suffering in silence was what you were best at.

//

And now, a few months later, you were the one in front of the camera for a Who Meme’d It. It was your first time actually competing, although you’ve sent your fair share of memes in. Spencer and Angela were the only two people to continuously guess you correctly, which in the grand scheme of things made the most sense as they were your closest friends at Smosh. However, you were now competing against both of them, and your competitive side didn’t have a concept of “friendship”, unfortunately. 

“Okay! Welcome back to Who Meme’d It! Today we have Angela, Y/N, and Spencer competing. And Y/N is quite competitive so let’s hope they still have their best friends after this!” Shayne introduced you all, smiling at you to ease your anxiety. 

“Lest we forget what happened when they were on Don’t Win Mario Party and nearly killed me,” Spencer said, turning towards you with his hands folded on the table. His eyes were smiling, but he was trying his best to keep a serious face.

You turned to face him, mirroring his expression and hands. “Lest we forget you deserved that attack because you fucked with my controller mid-lap so that you could get seventh.”

“Okay, are we doing Who Meme’d It or the Newlywed Game?” Angela joked, and you and Spencer returned to your normal positions, excited to play.

//

After the shoot, Spencer caught up with you in the kitchen. “You got your first Who Meme’d It win, how’s it feel?” You had indeed won, but only by two points. Spencer was right behind you and Angela frankly tanked it this episode. Usually she wasn’t too bad, but perhaps she knew how competitive you were going to be and decided to focus more on having fun instead of winning. Especially considering there was content being made that needed to be entertaining.

“Eh, I feel like my competitiveness isn’t very fun on camera. I’m hoping we don’t have to scrap the ep simply because I was too locked in.” You grabbed some fruit from the fridge and prepared to make your way to a table so you could sit and destress before your next shoot. You weren’t needed on set for over an hour so you were ready to mindlessly doomscroll while you snacked on your peaches.

Spencer chuckled at your comment, which made your heart flutter a bit. Suddenly, you had the urge to touch him. You put your hand on his shoulder, mostly unconsciously, not actively making the decision but simply just doing it. His giggling stopped instantly, and he looked at your hand cryptically, his expression unreadable. All too suddenly, it felt too serious, too personal, so you instantly pivoted. “But at least you didn’t win, right?” You smiled, patting his shoulder and turning to head to your seat. 

You were hoping, for the first time ever if you were being honest, that he wouldn’t follow you. Things had been weird between you two for a few weeks now, and you almost wanted some space to deal with the pain of your best friend seeming to lose interest in your friendship. And once again, Erin had submitted a meme that made you a little upset. You knew it was unreasonable to be upset with her, as it was all in good fun and she wasn’t actually trying to hurt your feelings. You should probably try to talk to her about that, since you knew she wouldn’t take your upset personally.

This one was arguably worse than the first one though, because instead of it being at your expense, it was technically at Spencer’s. The meme wasn’t mean in any regard, but it was making fun of Spencer for consistently getting “lost in his thoughts” whenever you were on a shoot together. Of course, Erin alluded to those thoughts being romantic in nature, which earned a few oohs and aahs from the crew and cast alike. You had felt your face get warm and tried to remind yourself you were on camera and it was all in good fun. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by Courtney approaching you. “Y/N, Spence! Just the two people I wanted to see. I have a question for you guys.” 

Clearly, Spencer had intended on following you, since Courtney had greeted you both. You sighed as quietly as possible, before asking Court if you could sit down before you all got to talking. Your castmates followed you to a table, and you popped a piece of fruit in your mouth. “Okay, what's up?” 

“Well, we wanted to do a Guitar Hero stream next week. I know you haven't been on any of the livestreams, so I figured I’d ask if you wanted to be in this one. You don't have to play but if you sit and make commentary I’m sure that'll be enough! But of course you can play if you want to.” Courtney was always so thoughtful, and you made a mental note to thank her for always being so considerate. 

“Oh hell yeah, I finally get to show off my guitar skills. It’s been a minute since I’ve played, but if Y/N’s down, I’m down!” Spencer’s eyes lit up. He had been trying to figure out a way to impress you and gauge your reaction before he finally took the leap and asked you on a date.

Everyone had been encouraging him to do so for months at this point, but he still wasn’t so sure about it. Yeah, you blushed whenever he mentioned you on camera and you blushed a lot during the shoot today when Erin’s meme came up. But some part of him felt like that had less to do with reciprocating a crush and more to do with embarrassment. 

You thought for a minute, munching on your peach slice. “Sure, that sounds fun. Spencer, maybe you could teach me how to play?”

Spencer broke out in a grin, “Of course I can. Although I’m surprised you’ve never played it before, it’s an iconic franchise.”

Courtney worked out a few more details with the two of you before making their way back to their pod. When she had left, Spencer turned his attention back to you. “Have you seriously never played Guitar Hero before?” He genuinely was having trouble believing that.

Truthfully, you had played before. Many times. And you were actually quite skilled at it. But it’s been quite some time since you picked up and played it, and you knew you would be rusty. Plus, you were mentally hatching a plan. Have Spence “teach” you the game, play extremely badly the whole time, then on stream you can kick his ass on Expert mode. Perfect plan.

“I have not. I might have played once or twice as a kid but I don’t really remember the controls or, like, speed, since I know some of the songs are really fast.”

“Okay, do you wanna come by my place tonight after work? I have a bunch of the Guitar Hero games but I also have Clone Hero which will probably be what we use on the stream anyway.”

Oh, right. Not-so-perfect plan. If you were to be taught, you needed to be taught before the livestream. Which means you had to hang out with Spencer outside of work. You can survive one night alone with him, right? You’ve done it so many times before. Sure, it’s been a few weeks since you guys hung out, and with your increasing feelings for him you were sure to be awkward. But it was Spencer! Your best friend in the whole world! It would be just fine. Right?

[violettwrites]

hey bae! i’m lowkey so obsessed with your young trailerpark!daryl as well and i wanted to put in a request for like daryl and reader spending their first night together(if yk what i mean) and merle waking up the next day and teasing them once he notices that reader is still there from the previous night. Don’t care for smut at all, just for the teasing tbh😭 Anyways no pressure and have a nice day🫶🏽

teasings 🏹 young trailerpark!daryl dixon

a/n: nonnie thank u so so so much for this request. as soon as i saw u had sent it in i HAD to write this. if you enjoyed this, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and or comment ! here is my masterlist, and my ask box is open for requests !

this can be a stand alone oneshot, or possibly a part two to this tp!daryl piece

summary: 1988. merle catches daryl & reader in bed together one morning, teasing them relentlessly.

pairing: tp!daryl x tp!reader

warnings: brief smut — 18+, merle being annoying

word count: 765

— — —

the early morning sun was just starting to peek through the cracks in the thin curtains of daryl’s small bedroom, casting soft streaks of light across the room. you stirred under the covers, blinking away sleep as you tried to gather your bearings. you could feel the warmth of daryl beside you, his steady breathing mixing with the sounds of birds outside. for a second, you smiled, remembering the events from last night.

”fuck— daryl!” you gasped, fingernails digging into his biceps as he thrusted into you, grunting with each movement of his hips. he had your thighs practically pressed to your chest, the sound of skin slapping together echoing his small bedroom.

“wha’s that, pretty girl?” he murmured as he looked down at you, blue eyes dark with lust as he quickened the movements of his hips, causing you to whine at both the compliment, and the feeling of his cock inside you. you to squeezed your eyes shut, only for him to grab your cheeks with his hand, shaking your head a little. “look a’ me.”

after all those years of growing up together, though all the ups and downs, things had finally fallen into place between you and him.

before you could fully wake up, you heard the door to the trailer barge open, heavy footsteps making their way towards the bedroom, where daryl’s door swung wide open.

“well, well, well, what do we got here?” merle’s voice rang out, loud and obnoxious as ever. “looks like little brother finally got hisself some!”

daryl tensed beside you, a groan coming from his throat as he was rudely awoken by merle, though it was nothing new for him. “shut up, merle,” he grumbled, face scrunched in frustration as he rubbed at his eyes. his voice was hoarse, clearly not in the mood to deal with his brother’s teasing. but merle wasn’t one to let things go.

you sat up, pulling the blanket to cover yourself, giving merle a look that could kill. “get lost, merle. nobody has time for your crap this early in the morning,” you snapped, throwing him a warning glare. merle, of course, didn’t take it seriously.

“aww, c’mon now, sugar. just sayin’ daryl ain’t usually this lucky! gotta give ‘im props,” he said with a shit eating grin, clearly enjoying every second of daryl’s embarassment.

you rolled your eyes, already used to merle’s nonsense. “you really wanna get your ass handed to you before breakfast? ‘cause you’re headed in the right direction.”

merle cackled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “woah now, girlie, don’t get feisty on me. i’m just proud of daryl here. took him long enough to figure it out.”

daryl groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes, trying to hide from the world— or maybe just his older brother. “i swear, merle, if ya don’t leave right now, ‘m gonna knock ya on yer ass.”

merle have one more obnoxious ha!, finally stepping back out of the room. “alright, alright. i’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. just remember, y’all need to lock the damn door next time. don’t nobody wanna see this.” he smirked and pulled the door shut, making his way out of the trailer.

you sat there for a second in silence before looking over at daryl, who was still covering his face. “i’m gonna kill him one day,” he muttered.

you chuckled, leaning over to poke his side. “i’ll help ya,” you giggled, your voice still a little groggy but playful. “but he is right about one thing.” you hated to admit it.

daryl finally pulled his arm away and raised an eyebrow at you, his hair a wild mess. “what?”

you smirked, brushing a hand over his chest. “took you long enough.”

his cheeks flushed slightly, something that made your heart skip every time. even though daryl dixon was tough as nails, around you, he had always been softer. “i didn’t—“ he started to protest, but you leaned in closer, cutting him off with a kiss. it was soft and lingering, enough to make him forget whatever he was going to say.

pulling back, you gave him a teasing grin. “don’t worry. it was worth the wait.” your hand gave him a soft pat on the chest.

daryl huffed, a small smile creeping into his face. “yeah, well, next time we make sure merle ain’t around, aight?”

you laughed softly. "deal."

outside, you could hear merle hollering something to the neighbours, but you didn’t care. in this moment, it was just you and daryl, finally where you both wanted to be.

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 1. - Angel

Max wants more than just a sub.

Who knew helping his dad at the shop would become his own personal brand of torture. He knew his dad had regulars, but he thought they’d be – old men regulars not whatever these chippendale escapees were. 

Apparently they’re contractors, who look like every middle-aged woman’s fantasy. Including Logan’s. 

And like clock-work, the group of men enter, a few heading to the drinks and some to his mom’s home-made subs. He hears Danny’s loud laugh, followed by Charles snickering as they tease their other colleague, George, Logan’s mind helpfully supplies, as he shows them something on his phone.

Logan wonders where the other one is, Max, all ruddy cheeks, bright blue eyes and big arms, who’s sadly amiss as he looks towards the floor. 

It’s embarrassing really, how at twenty-one Logan is like a school boy with a crush. If he ever confessed all the things he’s thought, fantasised about or, God, he inwardly groans, dreamt since seeing that man, it would have his Priest drowning him in holy water. 

A tap at the counter knocks Logan out of his thoughts, as he sees Danny in front of him ready to cash out. Like he knew what was going through Logan’s head, Danny’s smile stretched wider, “What’s wrong Logie boy, you disappointed it's just us today?” 

Logan squeaks as he’s caught out, face aflame, “No idea what you’re talking about, um– will that be all?” gesturing to the stack of subs and drinks Danny’s placed on the counter. 

“I think you doooo Logie boy.” Danny croons winking, as Logan speeds up his scanning before Danny can say anything else. It doesn’t stop the man from resting his forearms on the counter and wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re awful, I’m telling my mom not to make any more of her salami subs.” Logan whines, trying to threaten Danny’s favourite sub away in hopes of ending his teasing. 

Danny smiles cheekily in response, “Your mother loves me, she would never do that” as he taps his credit card on the reader. 

Putting the items in plastic bags, “Maybe I’ll just throw them all away then.” Logan says petulantly. Taking the bags from Logan, “Oh come on Logie boy, that would just be wasteful. Now don’t you worry, he’ll be back next week!” Danny shouts with one last wink as he heads out. 

It’s loud enough that Charles and George, who were still hanging by the front, look up and laugh as if they know exactly who Danny is referring to. It makes Logan let out an embarrassed “Danny” as he hears the group’s laughter continue out the store. 

_______________________

Logan is snug in their usual booth, waiting for Alex and Oscar to return with their first round. They’re celebrating Alex’s new job tonight.

“Alright, two pitchers of beer for us and a Sommersby cooler for the princess!” Oscar announces loudly as he sets down their drinks. Logan snatches the cooler and pulls it closer.

“Oh, come on, Logie bear. You know we’re just teasing you,” Alex says, only making Logan scowl more.

“Seriously, what’s gotten into you this week? Did your mom accidentally sew up your fuck-me jeans again or something?” Oscar asks, furrowing his brows in genuine curiousity.

Logan groans and sinks further into his seat. “No, worse.”

“Did she try to set you up with one of her awkward co-op students again?” Alex asks.

Sitting up, Logan protests, “Okay, that was one time! Checo was sweet—he just had really sweaty hands.” Realizing how pitiful that sounds once he says it, he rests his head against the booth's cushion.

Alex and Oscar sit in silence, giving him space to finally share what’s bothering him.

“You know those hot regulars my dad has? The Chippendale escapee contractors? Danny Ricc—you know him, Alex.” Leaning in, Logan hisses, “Well, they definitely know I’m into their friend or colleague, whatever he is.”

“Yeah well, Logan, you’re not exactly subtle. It’s pretty obvious you’ve got a crush on that guy,” Oscar replies, in an all too annoyingly factual tone, Logan decides.

“And your pupils get huge dude when you like someone. There’s no hiding your attraction buddy,” Alex adds, raising his hands in surrender.

“Oh my god, how am I going to face him now that I know his friends know? Meaning, he knows too. So mortifying,” Logan says, fully aware he’s whining when they’re supposed to be celebrating Alex. “Sorry, I’ll snap out of it… or I’ll move out of town.” He says the last part a little too seriously for his friends.

“Anyway, that’s my week. Now—Alex, come on, tell us about the job! The floor is yours.” Logan gestures with a flourish.

Alex and Oscar share a look. “I got hired to consult as an architect.”

Logan perks up and excitedly congratulates Alex, asking where. “At Danny Ric’s company—your favorite!”

“Oh my god, you’re going to be a part of the Chippendale escapees?” Logan squeals, both hands slammed on the table as he leans over in excitement.

Oscar, observing the scene then asks, “Time for a cheers then?”

“To Alex joining the Chippendale escapees!” they cheer, clinking their beers and can together.

“Oh my god, you’re going to work with Max. Alex, you love me, right? You’ll tell me if he ever talks about me, or if he says I’m cute?” Logan continues, getting even more embarrassing. Oblivious to the widening eyes of Alex and Oscar as they glance behind him.

“…Oh my god, he came in muscle tee a few weeks ago and I just wanted to bite his biceps because they looked so big and they are so big—”

“Ow! What the hell, Oscar? We use our words now.” Logan admonishes, bending in his seat to rub where he got kicked. But he freezes as he hears a familiar laugh. Looking up, he sees Danny standing by their table, amused, and oh god, Max, arms crossed and wearing an equally amused expression.

Now looking no better than his best friends, Logan’s eyes are wide, his face is scarlet, and his mouth hangs open in shock as he realizes they must have heard everything—or at least enough. Maybe he can learn to love Checo’s moist, moist, hands because Mexico is definitely far enough.

“Hey, boys, didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. Just came over to congratulate our dear little Alex on joining the company! Our youngest yet!” Danny sings, wiping a tear for dramatic effect.

Meanwhile, Logan, snapping out of his deer-in-headlights look, is now studiously examining the table varnish, hoping the two men forget his earlier soliloquy over the other's (big) arms.

Good-naturedly, Alex invites Danny and Max to join them in the booth, leaving Logan pressed arm to leg against Max, his best friend completely uncaring of Logan’s gay panic.

Logan starts drinking from his can, hoping to avoid any conversation. But before long, Danny, Alex, and Oscar finish the two pitchers and decide they need to get the next round. Logan’s eyes widen as he mentally pleads, *Don’t leave me alone.* But both Oscar and Alex blissfully ignore him.

Staring at his drink as if it's the most interesting thing, Logan catches a glimpse of Max turning his way.

“Heard you missed me at the store.”

Logan looks at him, feeling his cheeks flush. As Alex pointed out earlier, his attraction to Max is probably written all over his face.

“I—um, no, just wondering where you all were,” he stutters, wetting his lips. “Not just you.” He leans back against the wall as Max essentially cages him in the booth, one arm resting on the back and the other bent on the table. Max’s body warmth and sandalwood cologne envelop Logan, blanketing his senses. Max’s gaze drops to Logan’s lips, a small smirk playing on his face, "Really?" he prompts, "Ye-yeah" Logan breathes out, Max's eyes flick up to Logan's at his answer and his lips break into a smile as he replies simply “Okay, if you say so.”  And, all too soon, he leans back, creating some space as the sounds of the bar filter in again, grounding Logan, feeling like he must be in heaven with Max so close.

Clearing his throat as Danny and the others join the table, Logan sits up, gratefully accepting a new can from Oscar, who gives him a knowing look while subtly elbowing Alex. Now both friends are watching him with knowing smiles, taking in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

Logan glares back but falters when he feels a big hand settle just above his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. He realises he’s being asked a question. “Oh—I'm sorry, what?” he asks, confused, snapping his gaze to Max. 

It’s Danny, looking past Max with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He repeats his earlier question, fully aware of why Logan is distracted. “I asked if you’re excited to see your best friend every day now. Since your mom’s subs are legendary. And essential to a good work day”

Logan’s disbelief drips from his tone as he asks, “Even if all we have is the veggie one, Danny?” He raises his eyebrows for added effect.

Danny crosses his hand over his heart dramatically. “Even the veggie one, Logie boy! Although some of us come for the service too.” He finishes with a sidelong glance at Max.

Max, whose relaxed against the booth with his body still angled toward Logan and a comfortable hand resting on Logan’s thigh from when he squeezed it earlier to get his attention. At Danny’s insinuation, Max looks down at Logan, a small smile tugging at his lips as he gives Logan’s thigh another gentle squeeze, this time higher up, and shrugs.

The warmth from Max's touch sends a flutter through Logan's stomach, mingling with a simmering feeling in his chest that he can’t quite identify.

Thankfully, Logan is saved from responding as Oscar pulls Danny’s attention away, asking what project they’ll be starting on.

In the most teasing tone he can muster despite his fluster, he whispers, “So, service?” Looking up at Max from beneath his eyelashes.

Max leans in closer, his voice low. “You’re not the only one who's been looking, Angel.”

Logan’s face heats up further. The nickname doesn’t help his battle against arousal or the realisation that he was not subtle at all.

He blinks as he responds with a soft “uh-huh,” nodding his head, his mind feeling like cotton from their proximity and Max’s admission of mutual attraction.

Max’s gaze drifts to Logan’s lips just as Logan nervously bites his bottom lip. He’s on the verge of saying something—or maybe hoping for something more—when a cough interrupts them, making both of them look up at a smirking Danny.

“While the image of you two is a relief, we have to head back. Poker night! We just had to stop to congratulate you, Alex, on joining us.”

Logan, embarrassed by Danny’s comment, groans into his hands, while Alex thanks Danny brightly. Glancing at Danny, as he waits for Max, he leans into Logan’s ear, whispering, “See you tomorrow, Angel,” and with one last squeeze to Logan's thigh he’s out of the booth and heading for the door behind Danny. Leaving Logan bright red, his arousal flashing like a stop sign, and his two best friends laughing at his expression.  

Unhelpfully, Alex says, “Guess this means you don’t have to skip town anymore.” To which Oscar shouts, “Hear! Hear!” Logan can’t help but giggle, his embarrassment fading as he nods in agreement.

Chapter 2 of Diet Pepsi- Here

Author's note: So I listened to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae and I just kept seeing buff/fit Max (white t-shirt, gold cross in blue jeans) and Logan vm baby boy/angel and big blown out eyes and parted lips when Max comes into his dad's store with his co-workers/friends. (i was going for a lil age diff but mostly size difference)

also i was gonna make it hotter but its like jesus had a hand on my shoulder as i got to it. maybe next chapter